Black Talons
by thesarge400
Summary: Eight ships slowly surrounded the Normandy, tightening a noose around the frigate. A rough voice filled the cockpit. "Cerberus vessel, surrender your ship controls immediately. Commander Shepard, you are under arrest." Post ME2. Read, Review, and Enjoy.
1. Black Talons

Black Talons

* * *

_**Normandy **_**SR-2**_**, **_**Deep Space. **

"Nothing out here, Commander, just vacuum." Joker sighed as the scanners washed over the search area again, and yet again, turning up nothing.

"_Not true, Jeff." _EDI, the shipborne AI, responded rather matter-of-factly. _"Despite popular belief and your frequent remarks, space is simply not just a vacuum. It contains several-"_

"Hate to interrupt there, babe, but I really don't need another lecture right now." He tapped a few controls into the screens in front of them before pushing them away from his view. "…Got enough of that back at flight school."

"_As much as I love hearing you two argue over the most mundane things, I would prefer another scan." _Commander Shepard. The savior of the Council. Savior of the Citadel. Savior of all mankind. Joker lost count of what he was the savior of, ranging from little colonies to entire space stations. Oh, and all known sentient life from a pending Reaper invasion. Can't forget that.

Joker sighed as he ordered EDI to perform another scan. "Commander, this is my fifth sca-"

"_I do believe I am doing most of the work, Jeff. At this time, and for the past four times, I have had command over the scanners."_

The brittle-boned pilot held back a threat to fry every system EDI had control over as he corrected himself. "Well, _EDI _here has given us five scans, Commander. And that's five blanks we've pulled up. Maybe this distress beacon isn't out here, or there wasn't one to start with."

His voice resonated over the intercom again. _"There's a beacon out here, Joker. An S.O.S. doesn't just show up for no reason. All I need you to do is find it."_

"Just sayin' that it coulda been an old signal from a dieing beacon." The pilot responded as he shrugged.

EDI's cool voice filled Joker's ears again. _"Warning. Multiple-" _

Joker's thumb clamped down on the mute. "Sorry, babe. How 'bout you let me do the talking. Sick of you correcting me anyways." Immediately, forward warning signals flared across his screens, before being cut out in a wash of static. Joker squinted and flicked through panel after panel, each filled with more static and white noise than the last.

Mordin Solus clicked on the radio, talking out loud in his fast-paced tone, not to anyone in particular. _"My research station has ceased to function. Just getting static, no readings, no information, nothing. Can anyone else verify problems?"_

Engineer Donnelly and Tali'Zorah both called out over the radios, one after another.

"_Getting unusual reading's down here. Screen's goin all fuzzy."_

"_Same here. What's going on up there?"_

The pilot growled and muted the radio. He didn't need to here the remarks of every member aboard. He still needed to find out what the hell was going on. A message appeared across Joker's screen.

_Un-mute me. Now._

_I can handle this_, Joker told himself. This was just some solar interference or something, nothing he hadn't encountered before. Another message appeared, in much larger text.

_NOW, Mister Moreau. _

Static filled readings appeared on his screen next, straight from EDI. Multiple ships were closing in on the _Normandy_ from different directions at over twenty-thousand kilos away, at least eight. The computer matched them with a turian build, but the designs were unlike anything Joker had seen. Eerily similar to the _Normandy_ herself, but with a much more radical design, seemingly built for stealth as well as upfront warfare, loaded with plenty of offensive weaponry.

The pilot no longer hesitated, and gave a voice back to his AI counterpart. _"Multiple vessels on intercept trajectories."_

Joker froze up for a moment as memories of the last time he heard words similar to that, back on the first _Normandy_. Right before the Collectors fried the starship to particles. He snapped out of it. "Activate stealth systems, we can't take on eight of these things."

"_Already engaged." _EDI responded rather calmly. _"Vessels are gaining velocity, approaching two-thirds their projected speed." _Joker flared the engines and prepared to warn Shepard just as EDI stated. _"They know we are here."_

"I figured." Joker throttled the frigate and scanned what was left of the static-filled map to his left. He tried to get an estimated escape route, but the turian ships were moving quickly, closing their noose. "Commander, you better get down here quick. We got ships coming after us. I think they're turians, but their ships aren't like anything in the records. They're like the _Normandy_."

Shepard responded immediately, _"Already on my way."_

"_More of a hybrid, Jeff." _EDI informed, her voice ice cold. _"They seem to be a combination of a turian cruiser, and a design of the Normandy. Interesting."_

Joker took full control of the ship and raised the alarms, just to be safe. Cannons were coming online, kinetic barriers at full, and ship-defense systems active.

At the back of the Combat Information Center, the elevator doors parted and out stepped a man in jet black N7 armor, with the bright-red stripe tracing down the right arm. The man marched past Yeoman Kelly Chambers and other crewmembers with determination. There was a certain aura about this man, like you'd get the feeling to willingly follow him into the pits of Hell itself and you know he'd get you back out. He proved this when he took his team through the Omega 4 Relay, infiltrated the Collector base, and got everyone out alive. If there was a human who could truly do anything, it was Shepard.

Most moved out of his way as he tried to get by the passing crewmembers who responded to the alarms, others just watched him as he passed by.

Scars of his implanted cybernetics had healed on their own, hiding the fact this man was a product of the Lazarus Project, a Cerberus-funded scheme to bring back a person from death with the most advanced technology available. And Commander Shepard was the only subject.

He picked up the pace and jogged towards the cockpit, with Joker in his chair, going through multiple systems on his screens, most washed over in static.

"They're interfering with our systems, shutting out most of them. Long range comms are offline." Joker explained as the Commander approached. "FTL drives are warming up, but they'll be all over us before we can make an emergency jump."

Shepard looked at the screens, trying to see past the static. Eight vessels were circling around the _Normandy_, like Old West cowboys surrounding a group of cattle. He looked over to the bulbous blue orb next to Joker that embodied EDI, "What are our offensive options? I got a bad feeling we'll have to fight our way out of this."

"_Thanix cannons and torpedoes are primed to fire, but with their numbers and speed, I project we'll make two kills before we are overwhelmed ourselves. Wait." _The image of EDI faded slightly before becoming vibrant again. _"Seven of the eight vessels have now targeted us. The lead ship is hailing us… Do you wish to respond, Commander?"_

Shepard paused. They had them painted. No way out in time. Couldn't run. He nodded and ordered, "Open up short-range communications."

Static filled the speakers in the cockpit before steadily evening out. A gruff voice called out on the other end, definitely turian. _"Cerberus vessel, deactivate your thrusters and power your weapons systems down immediately."_

Joker's eyes opened wide as he responded with a growl, "Whoa! You want us to what? Who the hell do you think you guys are?"

"_Cerberus vessel, surrender your ship controls immediately. If not, you will be fired upon. Commander Shepard, you are under arrest."_

"On whose authority?" Shepard questioned as he stared out into space through the cockpit glass.

"_Ours."_

"Sorry," Shepard replied with a grin. "But I just don't let people make threats against me and my crew." The Commander kept his grin as he patted Joker on the shoulder, "Lose these guys, Joker." The _Normandy's _engines went to emergency full, sending the Commander into a backwards stumble for a moment. Joker was too enthralled with his job to notice.

The turian on the radio huffed. _"So be it."_

EDI immediately warned, _"Alert! The lead ship has fired a class-three electro pulse weapon. Impact imminent."_

Joker forced the _Normandy _'down,' which technically wasn't correct. There was no such thing as up, down, left, or right out in space. It was all limitless, directionless. The pilot looked at his last working screen, to find the projectile chasing the frigate, closing in. He slammed down on the throttle, knowing he wouldn't get anymore speed.

Shepard opened up comms to Engineering, "Donnelly? Get us a getaway, now!"

The Scot yelled back, his voice strained, _"I'm giving her all she's got, Commander! I can't push the Normandy any harder, we're already at emergency power!"_

Shepard noted his options. There was only one. "All hands! Brace for impact!"

The energy pulse slammed into the kinetic barriers of the frigate, frying away the shielding as if the barriers were mere paper. The ball of energy slammed against the armor plating of the ship, sending a violent wave throughout. Shepard's muscles immediately contracted and he unwillingly fell to his back, unable to control himself. His vision washed out in _static_, literally blinding him in a snowy haze. He heard Joker call out his name, but is sounded distant and echoic, like someone yelling down a vacant hallway.

"Commander, you okay?" Joker called out, seemingly unaffected by the blast.

Shepard's senses returned to him and he slowly climbed to his feet, his muscles tingled as he felt a fellow crewman grab his underarm to help him up. "What the hell just happened?"

EDI's image appeared on the pedestal next to Joker, but the AI's image was very faint and static washed out most of what she said, _"Class-three EMP tor… power down throughout…" _She cut out after that, EDI's image gone, her voice silenced.

Joker slammed his hands across the control panels in front of him, all of them dark, "Damn it! They hit us with an EMP! Engines and weapons offline… we got no power."

"We're sitting ducks?" Shepard asked as he steadied himself, his vision slowly returned. Main lights were out, only the emergency ones were online, but just barely. They flickered in the dark, threatening to be snuffed out as well.

"Yeah." Joker sighed as he reached for the pistol underneath his seat. "And since they haven't blown us up yet, I take it those turians out there want to board us." He slapped a thermal clip in and shakily stood. There was nothing left to be done for the ship now, controls were nonfunctional for at least several hours.

Shepard nodded and turned to the crewman aboard the CIC. He ordered anyone who can't shoot a gun out and the ones who could get ready. Turning back to his friend, Shepard asked, "Joker, can you get anyone on the horn?"

"Nah." He responded as he shook his head. "Everything's dead." He looked sadly over towards the pedestal that held EDI. "She might be, too."

The _Normandy _reverberated violently, nearly knocking Joker over. He nodded over towards the airlock. They were breaking in. Shepard pulled out his own pistol and pressed himself against the left side of the airlock door, Joker on the right. The Commander listened intently, and he could hear _something _on the other side. The turian attackers were hacking the door.

Joker swallowed hard as he removed his SR-2 cap and threw it to the side. Suddenly, a powerful voice shouted out from the other side of the hull, slightly muffled by the hull. _"Do not shoot! We wish to talk!"_

"So says the guys who threaten to arrest us, then shoot at us!" Joker growled in response as six _Normandy _crew members trotted over, assault rifles in hand.

The strong voice chuckled, _"You'll have to forgive Lieutenant Antalus, he can get a bit antsy during high priority assignments. Stress loosens his tongue quite a bit. Please, we only wish to speak with Commander Shepard." _

The door opened regardless, and Shepard turned the corner and pointed his weapon at a group of turians, all wearing matching black armor with white insignias over the chest plates. The aliens pointed a manner of assault rifles and shotguns back at the commanding officer aboard the _Normandy_. A tall, burly turian stood among the group, his hands behind his back.

He slowly approached the Commander and held out his hand, "Allow me to show some civility, Commander. I am Captain Farrax. Kilhai Farrax."

* * *

_**Normandy **_**SR-2, Deck 4.**

"Oh, man…" Donnelly groaned as he rubbed his forehead. "Commander could've given us that warning a little earlier, eh Gab?" Silence was the only thing that answered the engineer. He worriedly turned and stuck out his hands through the dark to find his best friend slumped over on the ground, out cold. "Gabby? Jeez, can I get some help over here!"

"I'm coming, don't worry!" The voice huffed and muttered to herself, "It got dark in here." Donnelly identified a heavily accented voice. Distinctly quarian.

"Well, Miss Zorah, I need to make sure Gabby here is alright. You got a light?"

Tali flipped on her Omni-tool. The dark orange device illuminated and wrapped around her left arm, providing a faint glow to the pitch-black engine room.

Donnelly whined with sarcasm plaguing his voice. "A bit _more _light would be helpful, ma'am."

The alien flipped on the flashlight and waved the beam of light over the two humans. Donnelly appeared uninjured besides a bruise or two, while Gabriella laid slumped over to the side, not moving. Tali kneeled by her and gently laid the female on her back, careful with her head. A nasty gash trailed down the side of her forehead, blood dripped from the controls, apparently from where she hit. Tali carefully applied medi-gel to her wound.

The Scot looked over to his alien friend, "Ma'am, I'll take care of her from here, just a bump on the noggin. You go figure out what the hell happened."

Tali nodded as she stood, and then headed for the door closest to them. Thankfully there was enough emergency power to keep the doors working. It opened to reveal the silhouette of a krogan standing before her.

"I don't like the dark." Grunt stated with gritted teeth. The krogan super-soldier bred from a tank to kill anything and everything was apparently afraid of the dark. He repeated himself as he clutched the shotgun nervously in his hand when Tali didn't reply right away. "I don't like the dark, Quarian. The tank was dark enough for me."

"I got a flashlight, now come on. Where's Zaeed and Jack?" She questioned as she pushed past the large brute and down the corridor.

Grunt huffed and marched along, keeping pace with the tech specialist. "Bitch downstairs is having some sort of breakdown, threatened to break my neck in sixteen spots, so I left her alone. Zaeed out cold, tried to wake him, no success. Just you and me."

_Perfect, _she thought to herself. The aliens opened the next door and Tali sped for the elevator. She tapped on the controls, only to get a weak 'out of service' tone. "Damn. Looks like we're using the ladders below deck, Grunt."

The krogan growled, "But _she's _down there." He pounded his fist and palm together like he usually did to get pumped for battle. "I don't _like _her."

"Too bad." Tali spat back as she made her way back towards the staircase. The light from her Omni-tool lit up the dark stairway, casting odd and distorted shadows across the walls. She could hear someone mumbling under their breath. It was Jack, her voice low and hoarse.

"_They can't get me in the dark… won't let 'em. They won't do it to me again, not like this. I'm not an animal, not an animal."_

Slowly, the quarian moved her feet silently down the metal steps. The faint, red emergency lighting was still alive, casting a pale red sheen over everything. Tali could make out the powerful biotic pressed against a wall, her tattooed hands glowing blue from her somewhat unstable powers. If there was one thing Jack was good at, was losing control in a fight. She was brutal, almost animalistic with her enemies. Tali personally believed someone this dangerous should've stayed in prison.

Grunt followed Tali down, and once he caught sight of Jack again, he pulled out his shotgun. He walked in front of the quarian, as if protecting her with his body. He glanced back at her, his shotgun still aimed for the panic-gripped Jack, "Go to the ladder, I'll make sure she won't hurt you."

Tali rolled her eyes and sighed. "She's fine, Grunt. Just hates the dark, like you."

"She practically lives down here. She doesn't hate the dark. She's only one thing, crazy." The Urdnot warrior warned as he pumped the shotgun in his hands. He slowly approached the ladders, with Tali in tow, his meaty finger inching closer and closer to the trigger. Tali's three, long fingers wrapped around one of the rungs of the ladder and she began to scale it. Keeping dead silent, Grunt holstered his gun and tried to climb as well.

Tali entered the enclosed ducts of the ship, now somewhere between decks four and three. Halfway up, she heard a annoyed snarl from the krogan behind her. She looked back down, to find Grunt looking up at her, the hump on his back was too large for him to fit through. "Damn thing is too small, can't fit. This ship wasn't built for krogan." Slowly, he made his way down the ladder and called up to her. "Just go, I'll be fine."

Nodding, the quarian climbed up the rest of the way, and once she arrived at the opening for the AI Core, she came face to face with a gun barrel. The woman froze, knowing one wrong move could end her life instantly. Then she heard Garrus Vakarian's voice break the silence of the AI Core room.

"Jeez, Tali…" The former C-Sec officer exhaled as he lifted the weapon away from the quarian's mask. "You gotta at least give me a warning…"

"Is that any way to treat a lady, Garrus?" Tali growled back as she extended a hand, which Garrus took and lifted her from the dark duct. The tech looked over to the pedestal that usually held EDI's image, only to notice it was vacant. "EDI's gone too, along with most of the power?"

"Yeah," Garrus nodded as he glanced back as well, exposing the scars covering the right side of his avian-like face. "I think we got hit by an EMP or something, frying out our systems. Only the emergency reserve power was spared. So far we got emergency lights, artificial gravity, and life support running. Not much else though."

Tali nodded and then concluded, "Well whoever hit us, they wanted us alive."

"For now." Garrus replied morbidly before walking towards the door. He kneeled by the bulkhead and grabbed a shotgun pressed against it. He threw it to the quarian, who snatched it out of the air and wrapped her fingers around the weapon. The turian opened up the door and made sure the barrel of his rifle led the way. He proceeded into the med-bay under the faint lighting, slowly passing over his damaged armor.

Tali looked back before she followed him, to find the geth infiltrator Legion slumped against the wall, its glowing eyespot dark, its body unmoving. Looks the EMP disabled the robotic entity that tried so hard to imitate Shepard. She felt no emotion as she followed Garrus into the darkened clinic.

"Good riddance."

As Tali caught up, Garrus whispered to her, "Miranda, Jacob, and I moved Chawkwas and the rest of the crew on this level to the observation decks. They'll be protecting the crew down here. Samara and Mordin are treating some of the crew that got hurt during impact, electrical boxes overloaded, causing a decent explosion."

The pair walked past the mess tables and towards the armory, where the ladder that led upwards was hidden. Garrus continued, "Thane is trying his best to assist with getting everything back online, he's actually kinda tech savvy."

"So we're on our own?" Tali didn't like the idea of only two crewmen able to assist, whatever was going on the upper decks.

"Pretty much. And guess which way we're going?"

"Nowhere but up?"

"Nowhere but up."

* * *

Shepard kept his pistol trained for the turian who still had his hand held out, as if honestly expecting him to take it. The Commander growled at the turian in front of him, his finger dangerously close to the trigger, "You come down here, surround the _Normandy_, disable it forcefully, come trotting aboard _my _ship with a group of heavily-armed commandos, and you want to shake my hand and say all you wanted to do was talk?"

Farrax nodded, his voice was hoarse and scratchy, but still commanded authority. "Something like that." He looked back to his soldiers and nodded. They lowered their weaponry, still glaring at Shepard and Joker. "Now, can we come in? It's awful chilly in in the all-encompassing void of space, and you heard that old saying about turians and the cold, right?"

Thousands of alarms in Shepard's brain told him to shoot, and end this right here, but he relented, finally lowering his handgun. He stepped back and motioned Farrax inside, his men followed suit. The Commander turned to the six crewmen with weapons still drawn.

Joker shook his head, "Shepard, I don't like this…"

"Stand down and return to your posts." Shepard turned back to the alien aboard his ship, his hand still on his pistol. "Okay, first off. What the hell did you do to my ship?"

"Ah." The turian started as he rubbed imaginary dust off the plating of his armor. "A class-three energy projectile. Better know to your kind as an 'electromagnetic pulse' or EMP. This temporarily disables most major systems aboard any vessel, allowing us ease of capture. It only disables ship VI's, weapons, and engine systems. It isn't powerful enough to affect emergency power systems, leaving life support and artificial gravity intact."

Farrax marched down the long bridge of the _Normandy_, his fingers scratching his chin in curiosity as he inspected the ship carefully. Shepard followed, with the turian commandos behind him. Two aliens stayed behind, forcing Joker back in the pilot's seat.

"Turian militaries and police forces use it to capture fleeing criminals or persons of interest without damaging or destroying their ship." His voice dropped, staying firm behind well-hidden anger, but Shepard could tell when Farrax clenched his free fist. "We prefer to punish our criminals before they experience death."

"That answers one question…" Shepard pressed on underneath the diminishing glow of the emergency lights. "…Now, who the hell are you people?"

Farrax smiled inwardly, but kept his face as solid as stone. "We are the-" The _Normandy _rumbled and hummed. Lights returned, followed by the glowing orange displays from multiple crew stations. The galaxy map shuddered before shimmering to life again, displaying the Milky Way Galaxy and its celestial inhabitants. Farrax raised a hand and motioned around the vessel, "You see? I am a…what's that saying you humans use all the time?" The turian halted and turned to the Commander. "A…'man of my word?' Yes, that's it…"

This was the first time Shepard got a good look at Farrax. His grayish-brown face was tattooed with an intricate design with sharp cuts and angles, all in jet black. Underneath, scars traced along every contour to his complexion. Each soldier matched him with the tattoos, but each turian's scarring was different. But Farrax was indeed the most menacing to look at.

His armor reinforced his menace. It was black and sturdy, just like his soldiers, but battle-scarred and stained, most likely with blood.

Farrax sighed and waltzed leisurely as if he was taking a tour on the _Normandy_. He marched for the galaxy map, wrapping his talons around the railing as he looked deep in the representation of the galaxy before him. It glowed off his skin like the sun, brightening up his dark tattoos.

"But enough delay…" He continued as his men took up positions around the CIC, standing at attention.

Without looking at the Commander, still enthralled with the map before him, Farrax continued. "We are the Black Talons. The best the Turian Hierarchy has to offer. Similar to the Council Spectres such as yourself, Commander Shepard, but a much larger and more organized group. We partake in 'blacker than black-ops.' Unlike the Spectres, though, we have direction. We have orders, and we follow them to the letter."

"Well if you're just a huge squad of highly trained badasses, then why are you calling for my help? And was disabling my ship the only way to do it?"

Farrax rolled his eyes. "Please, with your reputation and habits, simply asking for your help was unlikely. Things tend to supernova around you."

Yeoman Kelly Chambers returned to the CIC, only to find it was occupied with more aliens than humans. Shepard was having a testy conversation with their apparent leader. Chills went up Kelly's spine. She could feel the air was filled with concealed animosity. Several crew members aboard the _Normandy_, especially aboard the CIC, were profound xenophobes. Basically hardcore racists, but they preferred the former of the two, making them sound a bit more respectable than most.

She walked up to a turian soldier at attention who looked rather young. Due to her job, she had to study each alien species carefully. She learned that turians wore facial markings or tattoos to symbolize which colony or planet they hailed from, but this alien's markings seemed to be peeled away at the skin before being painted over by harsh, uniform black tattoos.

Pink scarring had replaced what were once this turian soldier's colonial markings, showing that his wounds were very recent. She gently lifted a hand to his face and asked softly as he rubbed the turian's cheek gently. "Was the pain bad?"

The soldier's mandibles clicked, his eyes stared across the room, attempting to keep his military bearing. But he failed as he looked down at the human with softer eyes. "More than you know."

Kelly placed both hands over his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, "I'm so sorry."

The turian immediately straightened up again and whispered to the overly-curious Yeoman with an extremely nervous voice, "M-Ma-Ma'am, please."

Kelly held on for a few more moments before she decided to relent, apologizing to the young male.

Shepard stood next to Farrax, who now also began staring into the galaxy map. "That still doesn't answer much. Why do you want me?"

Farrax chuckled and shook his head. "We needed to contact you. And finding you when you were just a Spectre was going to be hard enough… but getting you to speak with us was going to be… What's the human term for this? 'A whole different ball game' when we found out you were the same Commander Shepard who gave the Illusive Man of Cerberus the proverbial middle finger."

He let that sink in, as Farrax knew of Shepard's decision to nuke the Collector base instead of preserving it for Cerberus. To put icing on the cake, Shepard left Cerberus with its finest ship and operatives in tow.

The turian captain cleared his throat after his pause. "We used an old distress beacon to draw you out. Either way-"

"Contacts! Left side door!" A turian commando yelped as he raised his gun. Every other Talon soldier raised their guns at a turian standing in the door way, wearing damaged blue armor, pointing his firearm right back.

"Looks like I didn't miss the party, then." Garrus commented aloud.

Farrax hollered to his men, his voice resonating throughout the ship. "Stand down! All of you!"

His men reluctantly followed the order, and he turned back to Shepard. "The one who just prompted my men to ready their weapons was Lieutenant Antalus, by the way. He also opened fire upon your vessel without _my _orders," Farrax flared his mandibles and glared at the Lieutenant, who was back at attention. "But he will be dealt with after this, I assure you."

Shepard jabbed his thumb over to Antalus. "May I?"

Farrax smiled. "Be my guest, Commander."

The _Normandy's _commanding officer stormed over to the turian lieutenant and slammed his fist into the cheek of the alien, sending him to the ground. "_That's _for attacking my ship."

Antalus growled and spat on the deck before climbing to his feet, ready to gut the Commander with his combat blade, only to be met with the imposing gaze of his Captain. He froze and returned to attention immediately. "Sorry, Commander Shepard. It was a lapse in my judgment."

Shepard grinned and glanced over to Garrus, with Tali right behind him, "Come on in, you two. Make yourselves at home among our new friends."

Farrax noticed the quarian entering the bridge and his mandibles flared again as his brow furrowed. He gave a false chuckle, barely trying to hide his discontent. "Commander, you are a man known for a great many things, but I never expected a man like you to let _animals _aboard your ship."

"'Animals,' Farrax?"

He pointed to Tali. "That thing doesn't belong on a ship of this caliber."

Tali froze as she heard the words of the captain. Her people had experienced pretty extreme racism before, but at least those xenophobes had enough kindness to acknowledge quarians as something more than animals.

"What?" Tali hissed as she reached for her shotgun and took aim for the turian still standing by the galaxy map. Farrax just grinned as Tali's gun came within a few feet of him. The quarian was ready to end his life for what he just said, "We are not animals…"

Farrax huffed and rolled his eyes before pushing the gun barrel away from him, "Whatever you say, Quarian. Only animals abuse their power, and use it to end countless lives."

"The geth were not my fault, Turian. My ancestors made mistakes, mistakes I had nothing to do with."

"Please," he waved his hand and turned his attention back to the galaxy map, "spare me. Your people are still responsible for genocide, whether or not you will acknowledge it."

"Tali!" Shepard called out as he approached his enraged teammate, "Stand down, now."

Tali's fingers trembled, millimeters away from the trigger. The Commander wrapped his hands around the firearm and gently took it from her hands. "He's not worth it, okay? Come on." He grabbed her shoulder and led her back towards Garrus.

Farrax gave a wicked as the quarian was led away. He reached for the combat blade strapped to his boot and examined the finely crafted, serrated blade. Flicking the knife back and forth, the cold metal cut through the air with precision and ease, not too heavy and not too light.

"I'd have to admit, though." He snickered. "You migrants are master craftsmen. This knife I received was from one of your people." His mandibles flexed as he tried hard to stop smiling as he twirled the weapon around. "His blood still taints this blade though."

Garrus put a hand around Tali's bicep to hold her back, just in case. Shepard crossed his arms and gave a stone-eyed stare to the turian captain. "One more jab at my crew, and I won't let them hold back, Captain."

"You needn't threaten me, Shepard. I won't let my opinions slip again." Farrax assured, though Shepard doubted that. "Back to business. We need you for an assignment that we can't handle discreetly." The turian turned and marched past Tali without another look and started to march back towards the cockpit of the ship. "You see Shepard, a group of fully-armed turian commandos storming certain places is looked down upon, so sometimes we call on assistance of the Council Spectres, though our relationship is shaky at best."

"I could see how that might be a problem, but why does it have to be me? There are other Spectres." Shepard said as he walked alongside the Black Talon captain.

Farrax swiped his talons together, and his men began to file in behind them. "Are you listening to yourself? You're _the _Commander Shepard. You killed Saren, stopped Sovereign, and eliminated the Collector threat. You came back from the freaking dead, for spirit's sake!" He quickly regained his composure as he placed one hand on his belt. "You are the only one we want."

Shepard didn't want to hear anymore praises or being told he was the one. "Stop sandbagging, Farrax. Why do you need me, what is the mission?"

With his fist clutching a small device on his hip, Farrax smiled one final time as his shoulders rise and fell with a short chuckle. "You were always headstrong, Commander. Impatient. But overall…" He jabbed the device until the gut of Commander Shepard with speed that could fool the most vigilant asari.

"You were too trusting." The turian clamped down on the button, and an EMP shockwave rippled through the Commander's body. His eyes opened wide, before going lifeless. This weapon was designed to shut down cybernetic systems, and Shepard was practically more of a machine than man now.

The offspring of the Lazarus Project began to fall to the metal deck, causing Joker to rise from his seat, pistol ready. Lieutenant Antalus broke free from the pack of commandos and with one shot of his rifle, destroying the weapon instantaneously.

Shepard's knees hit the ground. Antalus was already across the bridge, face-to-face with the pilot as he slammed his boot into the left leg of the wise-cracking human.

His bone snapped easily with a loud crack, due to Vrolik's Syndrome. Shepard halfway to the ground. Joker in freefall, no support from his leg. Antalus guided a had to the sternum and sped up the process, forcing the pilot down to the ground. A strong hand caught Shepard's collar and yanked him back upward. Antalus smiled in victory.

Shepard's allies finally realized what has just happened, and they pull their own weapons out, ready to kill. Black Talon commandos were already set to fight. Farrax observed as he heaved Shepard over his shoulder and pulled out his own sidearm.

Tali and Garrus rushed for the pack of turians retreating to the front of the ship.

"Shepard!" The quarian screamed as readied her combat knife. Garrus remained silent as he scanned the mass of targets in front of him. He _might _be able to get a single shot off before he met his own end. But for now, Garrus and Tali approached as they fell back, at an awkward standoff.

Farrax ceased his smirk and shouted, "Talons! Let's go!"

Like any loyal lapdog would, Antalus rushed back to his Captain's side without another word.

Joker, in writhing pain on the deck, saw his commander being taken out through the airlock, where their ship had connected. "Get back here, you bastards! Commander!"

The rest of the Talons backed into the airlock, making a phalanx that seemed impenetrable as they returned to their own ship. Tali charged out of blind rage, only to have the door close and seal in front of her. The quarian, usually quiet and calm, was slamming her fist against the solid hull of the _Normandy_.

"Help me up, we can still go after them!" Joker yelped as he tried to climb back to his chair on his own, only to fall over and curse in agony.

Garrus kneeled over him. "Your leg's broken."

"You don't think I know that? Get me up! I'm not just letting Shepard get grabbed right out from under us!" Garrus just looked at him for a moment. "Get me in my chair, damn it!"

He helped Joker up carefully, who then shoved the turian away as he slid into his chair, careful not to jar his shattered left leg. He pulled up main flight controls, only to find the engines didn't have enough power to even get them to one-quarter of their full speed. Joker slammed his fist against the controls and began rerouting all non-critical systems to the engines.

The ship shook as the magnetic docking moorings of the other vessel disengaged, releasing the _Normandy _from its steely grasp.

"Come on, don't do this to me now." The pilot hissed as the readings on his screen became clear. They simply didn't have enough power to give pursuit, let alone protect themselves. The former Flight Lieutenant brought up the radar and watched as all eight ships disappeared into deep space, leaving the _Normandy _behind. Dead in the water.

* * *

Peace.


	2. The Last Day of the Rest of Your Life

The Last Day of the Rest of Your Life

* * *

_**Normandy **_**SR-2, CIC.**

"Doctor! Over here!"

Chakwas rushed over to the tall turian, assault rifle still gripped in his talons. "Where is he, Garrus?"

The former cop sighed and nodded towards the bow of the starship. "Still in the cockpit. He refused any help. Joker's still trying to get the _Normandy _moving, wouldn't even let me scan his leg. I can't even tell how bad the break is."

She nodded and began to trot for the cockpit of the ship, passing by several crewmen at their stations. From what she gathered, Shepard had been taken, but everything else was lost in a sea of confusion. The crewmembers murmered to themselves, sounding tired and defeated.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Told you guys…the Commander trusts those aliens too much. I woulda just shot that bird-faced freak."

Chakwas ignored any more ramblings as she approached the pilot's chair. She could see the top of Joker's head, locked forward on the screens that were no longer filled with static, but still flickered with insufficient power. The EMP burnt the drive core out. It would take hours before it would be able to recharge on its own.

The doctor approached the pilot carefully, "Jeff? I heard about what happened with your leg."

He didn't respond at first, still flicking through the energy grid as he still tried to reroute power to the engines. "Doesn't matter. I can deal with the pain, doc. But I'm not quitting on Shepard. He wouldn't give up on us."

"Jeff." Chakwas cooed as she knelt by the chair, placing a hand carefully on his arm. "This ship isn't going anywhere, at least not for hours. I don't want you risking infection."

"I'm fine." Joker huffed.

"Getting treatment for a broken leg is not quitting on anyone, Jeff." Chakwas reasoned as she gently guided his hands away from the ship's controls. "Would you rather lose your leg?"

Joker ignored the doctor, refusing to reason. Shepard had always been there for the _Normandy _and her crew. And now he was being asked to stop trying?

It didn't matter if it was just for a few hours. Every second, Shepard and those 'Black Talons' got further away from Joker. "With all due respect, Doc, this isn't the first time I've broken a bone. I'll live."

Chakwas brought up her Omni-tool and brought it across his left leg. She gasped. The bone wasn't just broken, but the center of his tibia had completely been shattered, fragments of bone scattered throughout the leg. Her jaw still wide open, Chakwas glared at the pilot in shock, "Joker, you need to get down to medical now. This can't wait." She turned towards the CIC and shouted, "Get me a stretcher and painkillers! Now!"

Joker slammed his fist down on the panels in front of him hard, not caring that he just felt his pinky finger break. "I don't need any goddamn help! Get this ship working again!"

A blue hue filled the room, as EDI's presence returned to the _Normandy_. _"Jeff…there is nothing that can be done for the Normandy at this time. We simply don't have enough power to get us moving. You acting like a child isn't helping." _The AI paused before continuing. _"You need help."_

Joker's chest rose and fell as he gained control of his breathing, and a smirk creased his cheeks. "I knew you wouldn't be down and out forever."

"_It would talk all but utter destruction of the ship to put me out of commission._

Three crewmen arrived, two men handling a floating stretcher, while one had two syringes filled with painkillers in her hand. Chakwas took the first syringe and turned back to Joker. "This is going to hurt a bit. Not as much as your shattered shin, though."

The pilot's eyes went wide as he stared at the long needle approaching. "Doc, did I ever tell you that I don't like needles?"

"Get over it," Chakwas said as she lifted the sleeve of Joker's shirt and rubbed his arm with alcohol. Quickly, she plunged the sharp barb through his skin and into a vein. She clamped down on the plunger, forcing the drugs into his system.

She removed it and didn't worry about the blood too much, simply wiping it away with Joker's sleeve. Motioning the two men and the stretcher, the doctor lifted Joker out of the chair and supported him, making sure he stayed off his bad leg while seeing to that he didn't put too much pressure on his right one.

One of the two men then guided the pilot over to the stretcher, getting him on the floating device with ease.

Chakwas rubbed her hands together and turned to EDI. "Is the elevator in working order?"

"_It is now." _EDI replied immediately. Its voice became softer as the AI called out to her human counterpart. _"Don't die on me, Jeff."_

Joker smiled and waved a hand into the air, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, mom."

* * *

The voices echoed all around him. One was booming in his ears while the other was softer, but as if it was filled with gravel.

"_You never told me you'd be doing this, you promised you would bring him straight to me." _The soft voice said, slightly distorted, as if whoever on the other side of the conversation was being spoken through a communicator.

The loud, harsh voice reverberated through Shepard's brain. _"Change of plans. He's coming with me. He deserves to suffer amongst the worst of the galaxy has to offer. You will get him eventually…maybe. But I want to see him suffer first. It's always how my people have done it."_

"_Think very carefully, Farrax." _The other responded menacingly, his tone seemed somehow unchanged though. _"We will find you and your little facility, and once we do-"_

The transmission cut out abruptly. Captain Farrax's voice filled Shepard's ears, _"Try me, human. We'll be ready."_

Shepard limply lifted his hand towards his face, his vision returning. Everything was a bleak, runny blur, but he could make out two imposing figures from across the rather small room. The Commander flipped himself to his stomach, and struggled to prop himself up on his knees and elbows. It felt as if thousands of pounds filled each muscle in his body, making him painfully slow.

"_He's getting up." _A second voice observed. The lapdog, Antalus.

"_Deal with it." _Farrax hissed, his voice still creating imposing echoes. The door on the far side of the room opened, and he stormed out.

Loud footsteps approached Shepard, halting a mere few feet from the disoriented Commander. A boot pressed against his ribs and forced him to the ground again. Before Shepard could respond, the tip of the boot slammed right into his forehead. A white flash filled his vision, before blackness replaced it all.

* * *

**Last Dawn Penitentiary, Planet Kalgha. **

As Farrax marched down the dark hallways that surrounded him, turian guards on both sides froze at attention, rifles over their left shoulders. He ignored them as he stormed into his office and unclipped his gun belt, the door locking behind him.

The Captain let it fall to the ground, not caring. He slid towards the computer terminal near his desk and activated it. Warden Halan Tordun's holographic face appeared on the other end.

"Shepard's been transported?" Farrax growled, the anger apparent in his voice.

"_Yes, sir." _Tordun responded with a smile on his face, the black tattoos on his face widened the grin ever so slightly. _"Shepard's in his cell as we speak. You sure you want him in with the general population though? Dem krogans in the yard are some mean bastards."_

"Very." Farrax scowled as he clenched a fist.

"_Heard you talked with that one guy. How'd that go?"_

"Keep your men on high alert for these next few weeks." Farrax replied, not bothering to answer Tordun's question. "Nobody gets in here, and nobody sure as hell gets out."

Tordun grimaced and nodded before logging off.

As he turned to his window, Farrax looked down. Below, laid the majority of the Last Dawn Penitentiary, owned and operated by the Turian Hierarchy.

Almost every major species resided within the penitentiary. Krogan, turian, human, salarian, a single elcor, and about three dozen quarians. Goddamn animals, all of them. Murderers, rapists, thieves, terrorists, and more resided within these tall walls, every single one serving a life sentence.

The guards, all turian, were trained with the only form of containment and discipline that has proven to be the only effective way of containment. Kill first, burn the body, display the ashes like a trophy, and then ask the questions. Ever since Farrax was given a chance to assist in the running of the facility with Warden Tordun, there have been zero escapes, with only on attempt. Needless to say, it was put down quickly, with plenty of blood shed to put everyone else back in line. Twenty quarians died that day.

Every building was enclosed with its own regulated atmosphere, including the yard. This prevented ill weather from deteriorating the foundations, but also provided a grand psychological effect on the inmates. No roof, no outside view, no smell of fresh air.

Don't allow them to smell free air; don't allow them to think of freedom. Every room was pressurized to a general area of tolerance for all species, but this provided another advantage as well. He could vent the air from any room, killing everything inside within minutes. Each guard was equipped with a rebreather though. No point in killing employees.

Even if a prisoner were to escape, Kalgha was a desert world. Uninhabitable and hostile. If you escaped, you'd have nowhere to go.

Warden Kuril's Purgatory prison ship had nothing on Last Dawn, not by a long shot.

* * *

Shepard woke in a small cell. His eyes picked up every detail as he struggled to get mouthfuls of air. Tiny room, not a standard issue prison cell, which was usually six by eight feet. This room was slightly smaller, everything astoundingly close together. Miniscule bed, dirty floors, dirty sink and crapper. No windows. A faint blue shield kept him within the room.

He had been stripped of his armor and weaponry, donning a clean gray jumpsuit with a number stitched on the breast. Shepard approached the barrier in front of him and when he tried touching it, the barrier burnt his skin immediately.

He stumbled back and grit his teeth, his left hand now bright red from the harsh shielding. Shepard sat in the small bed and looked at his hand. It was a bad burn, but definitely not in the third-degree. Returning to the shield, he peered through to find he was on the second floor of a prison. Across the room, were several identical cells to his, turian guards at every sixth cell.

Each guard had the same tattoos as Farrax and the rest of the Black Talons. Below, there were more guards, but they weren't Talons. They had bright blue armor. Regular guards, maybe?

The Commander glanced to his left, stood a guard near a railing, looking out below to an empty floor, save for a few guards marching along. The shotgun the turian held was personalized and looked well-worn from overuse. Now, the guard himself looked like one mean son of a bitch.

Turning to look at Shepard's cell, the alien growled as he turned on his heels. "Get the hell back, human. Before I make you."

"What are you going to do? Kill me?" Shepard questioned with a small grin, wanting to see how far he could push the guard.

His eyes spread open wide as his mandibles flared. The guard approached the cell and swiped his omni-tool over an access panel, and the shielding died out. The turian's fist wrapped around Shepard's collar and threw him against the far wall, which wasn't that far at all.

Shoving his shotgun in the Commander's gut, the alien finally replied. "I just might, _Commander Shepard_."

The smile left the human's face as soon as he heard the shotgun being in his stomach be pumped.

"Stand down, Sergeant."

Still glaring at Shepard, the turian sergeant retracted his weapon before reluctantly being forced out of the cell. Lieutenant Antalus stood before Shepard, his face stony. "Hello, Commander."

Shepard wiped off the creases out of his jumpsuit and replied, "Antalus. I'm guessing your not here to tell me why I'm in this prison?"

Antalus cracked his knuckles and spat on the floor, next to Shepard's foot. "Not at all, Shepard. I'm here to lay the ground rules for your stay here at the Last Dawn Penitentiary. Rule number one? When the bell rings, you leave your cell. You do not return until it rings again. And you better get back to it in a timely fashion." The Lieutenant entered the cell.

Shepard noticed two turian soldiers behind him, unarmed except for pistols strapped to their hips.

"Rule number two. You cause trouble, you'll have not just Talons to worry about, but inmates as well. Most of them are extremely violent bastards, half of 'em with rather murderous tendencies." He yanked the Commander by his collar and threw him out of the cell. Shepard stumbled and his shoulder crashed into the metal railing.

The alien yanked Shepard up to his feet and wrapped both talon-tipped hands around his collar and forced him against the rail, the small of the Commander's back the fulcrum, his lifeline. "Rule number three! Fuck with me, you die!"

Prisoners in their cells took notice to the spectacle, most cheering the Lieutenant on. A chant reverberated within the walls of the cell block.

"_Drop him! Drop him! Drop him!"_

Lieutenant Antalus gave a full-on smile, exposing his teeth. "What do you think, human? Should I let you go, please the crowd? Many have said humans are quite durable."

Shepard felt the Lieutenant's grip loosen ever so slightly. Shepard forced himself forward and drove a knee into the turian's stomach, sending him backwards. Capitalizing, Shepard step kicked Antalus square in the sternum and sent the alien on his ass. The crowed booed and yelled curses like no tomorrow, unhappy with not getting a grander show.

"I think you should go to hell."

The guards immediately grabbed Shepard and restrained him, allowing Antalus time to get back up. He growled and punched Shepard as hard as he could right across the cheek. The Commander could taste blood in his mouth and see stars light up his vision.

"That's for punching me back on your ship!"

He kneed Shepard right in the ribs and forced him to his knees. "And that's for kicking me."

A radio on the alien's hip hissed loudly. _"Lieutenant, report to my office right now."_

Antalus signaled the guards and the two burly turians threw the Commander back into his cell unceremoniously. He reactivated the shielding and ordered his compatriots to leave. Brandishing a serrated knife, Antalus dragged the blade across the shielding. The metal began to burn white-hot. "Goodnight Commander, see you bright and early tomorrow. Don't break rule three, or I'll break you."

The turian glared at the human for a moment, before he turned on his heels and left.

Shepard clutched his ribs and sputtered blood from his mouth as he used his free hand to check his jaw. There was nothing else he could do but get some rest after a beating like that. Even though he awoke not just fifteen minutes ago, Shepard slumped into the uncomfortable bed and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

Farrax marched circles around the young Lieutenant, who stood at attention, eyes set forward. The captain stopped and leaned against his desk, just staring at the man in front of him for a few moments in complete silence.

Sweat appeared at the top of Antalus' brow, the bead slowly began to trace down his face.

Farrax snatched up the handgun he always kept on his desk and inspected the weapon carefully. It was fully loaded, clean, and ready to fire.

"I saw your little spectacle on the security cams, Lieutenant." Farrax commented as he looked down the sights, barrel pointed at the floor. "Mind telling why? I gave you an order to head straight to your quarters once we landed."

"Sir. Shepard's cell was along my way, so I decided to visit. Sir."

"That's bull, we both know that. The most direct route to the barracks is nowhere near Shepard. So I'll ask you one more time, and if I don't get an honest answer, I'll put a bullet in your foot. If I don't get one then, next one will be in your head." Farrax rose and pointed the gun at Antalus' foot. "Why did you go to the Commander's cell? I need him alive and unharmed for the most part, not nearly thrown off the damn ledge and assaulted."

"Sir. He punched me. Sir."

Farrax couldn't believe what he just heard. "There have been people who have shot at you, and they're still alive right now! But you'll get worked up over a punch?"

Antalus stayed at attention, but his eyes darted side to side, as if looking for a good answer. Farrax wouldn't give him time to find one as he pulled a trigger, lodging a slug in the turian's foot. The Lieutenant eyes lit up like fire, showing obvious agony, but he kept his military bearing, as he refused to release a scream or leave attention.

"Dismissed, Antalus."

* * *

"_Shepard, get up! Before the guard comes back and forces you out." _

The Commander awoke from the bed reaching for a pistol that wasn't there. A quarian stood over him, nervously looking back out for any guards.

"Who are you?" The human asked as he got to his feet, still sore from last night's beating.

The accented voice responded hastily, "Zaael'Mirku vas Tonbay, but we'll get into formalities later. If you don't want to end up dead, then follow me and don't do anything stupid."

Shepard nodded and silently followed the quarian out of his cell and down to the left, towards a staircase.

"The guards were distracted with a fight on the first floor, down the hall. Otherwise, you would've been beaten awake." Zaael turned to the human, his mask provided a reflection of Shepard, and questioned, "How did you sleep through the alarms? My ears are still bleeding…"

"I've been through a lot lately…" The Commander sighed as he tried to rubbed the back of his neck, only to have his hand flare with pain as if was set on fire.

Zaael noticed immediately and grabbed his hand roughly. "Yep. You touched the barriers, didn't you? They're designed to make sure you got a bad enough burn that would lead to infection if untreated. They'll do anything to take 'care' of an inmate, if you know what I mean."

Shepard yanked his hand back and rubbed it carefully, pain still pulsed though every nerve in it. "Yeah…These guys seem anxious to smoke just about anyone."

"I saw that little confrontation you had with the LT." The quarian paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "…I didn't start that cheer, just to let you know."

"I'm sure."

The two made their way down to the stairs to the main level, where several inmates and guards had gathered around a group of krogan sparring. Orange blood was spattered all over the floor, showing these krogan were beating each other senseless.

Zaael quickly walked past the scuffle, but Shepard lagged behind, watching as the much older krogan was ramming his fists into the younger one's face.

Zaael grabbed Shepard's forearm and hissed, "We cannot stay. Trust me, they'll make others look responsible for this."

Shepard followed the alien down the hall, but he could hear two turian guards break up the fight and speak to each other.

"Is the krogan dead, sir?"

Two gunshots rang out, and the crowd dispersed. "It is now."

"There's a few things you need to learn to stay alive and pride intact, Commander." Zaael coughed before continuing. "Don't pick fights, especially with different species. Krogans will cut your head off at night before lights-out, turians'll gang up on you and turn you to pulp, and salarians will put some nasty stuff in your food. _Keelah _knows what you humans do to each other. "

Shepard examined the quarian as they marched through the prison, past inmates or guards, with little attention drawn to either of them. His enviro-suit was stained and covered in dirt and grime. The gear that kept it working looked ancient and heavily damaged, but by some miracle it held together.

The guide coughed again, this time going into a fit. He paused and stumbled to the side, pressing his three-fingered hands against a wall. After a few seconds of hacking up his lungs, Zaael looked back to Shepard, "Sorry 'bout that…"

"You alright? Do you need a doctor?"

Zaael chuckled weakly, "Please…if a few coughs can kill, I woulda died in here awhile ago. It's funny, we quarians here get better medical treatment than the others, 'cuz of our immune systems. Heh heh, bet Farrax is still sore over that, racist bastard."

The alien started down the halls of the prison again, and Shepard followed silently. More and more quarians began to appear, all male. They gave nervous looks to each other as they saw Zaael bringing a human with him. Zaael led the human to a small table, where three other quarians sat.

"Sit." Zaael ordered gruffly. "Make friends. You'll need 'em. Let me get some stuff for those burns."

Shepard eased himself into the tiny metal seat and looked at the three quarians, their eyes the only thing visible through their masks.

The first quarian to the right, whose suit was colored red and black, spoke up. "Well since Zaael hasn't gutted you yet, I guess you're an alright human. Name's Keelan'Massus." He pointed over to the others, who wore matching purple suits. "That's Tarlan and Ferrin. What's your name there?"

Shepard was surprised. Even though this was a prison, information still had to go in and out. How could they not have heard of the first human Spectre, or the savior of the Council?

The Commander cleared his throat. "Shepard. The name's Shepard."

Before they could speak any more, Zaael's voice called out, "Human! Over here!"

The former Alliance soldier nodded to the quarians before walking over towards Zaael, who pulled up two chairs. Shepard sat across from his guide, who ordered, "Give me your hand."

Shepard held out his left hand, palm up. Zaael opened a small container and dipped two fingers inside. Gray ointment dripped from his digits as he quickly rubbed it into Shepard's skin.

"This'll make sure an infection doesn't happen, and it'll stop the burning sensation." He explained as he snatched up a roll of white bandages. Ancient stuff. He expertly wrapped a few layers around and around before grabbing a knife from his boot. With one swipe, he cut the bandage away. "That wrap doesn't come off for five days, you got me? You eat with it, shower with it, sleep with it. If you take it off, I'll have to do this all over again, and I'm not always generous."

Shepard flexed his hand and thanked the quarian, "Thank you, Zaael. But I wanna know-"

"Why no one knows who you are, Commander Shepard?"

"Nobody except for you, apparently."

Zaael sighed and leaned back his chair, twirling the finely crafted, yet obviously homemade, blade between his three fingers. "Besides you, I'm the newest one in here. Been here for a little over a year now. I've seen you in the vids, always paraded as the first human Spectre and savior of the Council." He leaned towards the Commander and looked around, as if checking for anyone listening in. "Information does _not_ pass through these walls from the outside. Everyone in this prison has been locked away for more than the past two years, they don't know squat."

Shepard took in the news before asking, "How'd you get in here?"

"Traitor, that's how." He bitterly replied, sheathing the knife back in his boot. "The Fleet sent me to go assist with a young female out on her Pilgrimage, who said her ship was impounded back on the Citadel by C-Sec. I found her ship, turns out it wasn't impounded at all. Went aboard, played the final log. She struck a deal with the Black Talons… Lead me out in the open, and she'd get a couple hundred thousand creds to bring back to the Migrant Fleet."

Zaael paused and pressed a hand against his mask in frustration. "I found her stripped of her breathing mask in the cargo bay, two bullets to the chest. Farrax and his goons grabbed me once I got off the ship. Just before they took me away, Farrax snatched the blade from my boot and stabbed me with it." He looked up towards the ceiling, as if glaring at the turian himself. "He still has it…and I want it back."

"Why did they want you specifically?"

Zaael's hands began to tremble as his voice filled with anger. "I was still on my Pilgrimage, couple years back. Stopped on Omega to have a few drinks, to relax, you know? I bumped into a Black Talon commando and his buddy on accident. They were both piss drunk, and they wanted a fight. I took 'em outside and handed them both an ass whopping."

He coughed and cleared his throat; his voice was low, "One pulled out his gun, so I pulled out my knife and cut his throat. Let the other one live, told him as he ran away: _'My name's Zaael'Mirku vas Tonbay!' _Once I was grabbed by Farrax, I was sent to life in prison for one count of murder and two counts of assault on military personnel. Been in here ever since."

Shepard patted the quarian on the shoulder. "You hate it in here, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I was just defending myself… why would you ask something like that?"

"Because I don't plan on staying in here for very long."

* * *

Peace.


	3. Alpha and Omega

Alpha and Omega

* * *

**Deep Space. **_**Normandy **_**SR-2, Comm Room.**

"Wait a goddamn minute, you're telling me what happened?"

Garrus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The turian looked over to EDI's glowing image and asked, "EDI, please explain to Zaeed what went on when he was napping."

The scarred mercenary growled, "It's not my fault that I slammed into the damned bulkhead when your jockey of a pilot decided to pull a fuckin' Crazy Ivan on me!" He paused as he looked at Shepard's suicide team, which had all gathered here in the Comm Room, minus the geth Legion and the biotic Jack. She was apparently having a mental breakdown below decks. "So mind telling me where the hell Shepard is?"

"_He is gone, Mister Massani. A group of turian commandos calling themselves the 'Black Talons' abducted the Commander. The reason Jeff pulled a 'Crazy Ivan' is because he attempted to avoid a strike from an EMP projectile, which is why the Normandy is not functioning properly at this time."_

Zaeed kept quiet, taking in the information from the AI slowly. His voice was quiet and subdued when he spoke again. "I've heard of 'em. Bunch of cloak and dagger black ops. Run by the turian military, but not publicly acknowledged. I ran into them once before…"

"You have?" Miranda Lawson, the genetically perfect Cerberus officer, put her hands on her hips with her brows raised. "If they got Shepard so easily, I don't see how you got away."

"When I ran with the Blue Suns, those Black Talons interfered with one of our missions. We were going after a diplomat aboard a freighter, and just before we managed to grab her, they came out of the woodwork and slaughtered my men." He began to chuckle as he dragged a finger over the scar by his eye. "Freaking braggarts, they were. I managed to get off that ship, but all down the halls I could hear them yelling: _'Black Talons, go go! Find the mercenaries!' _Good god, they weren't very subtle. But they're professionals, alright."

"So what is our next course of action?" The drell assassin questioned as he leaned against the far wall, staring at the floor. Thane cleared his throat. "We have no idea where they took him, and this vessel won't be serviceable for several hours, if not days. He might not even be alive."

"He's alive." Tali pointed out curtly. "That Farrax, their leader, didn't shoot him. He used some device that knocked out Shepard just like _that_." She snapped her fingers to accentuate her point. "Why bother doing all that, if you were just going to kill him?"

"I say we cut the crap and find something to kill." Grunt growled and pounded his fist against the hull. "We won't get anything done by just sitting and talking. I want to find my battlemaster and rip out the spine of whoever attacked him."

Garrus turned back to EDI, "How long until long-range communications come back online?"

"_Roughly thirty minutes."_

"Good. Send me a message once it's up and running again." The turian looked back to the crew. "Dismissed."

Miranda glared at the alien. "Dismissed? Who the hell put you in charge, Vakarian?"

"Well I don't see anyone else taking charge, do you? You certainly haven't, and so far no one else has either." He snapped back, ready for any reprisal. "Or is it just because I'm a turian, and Shepard isn't? Always knew Cerberus was filled with bigots…"

Zaeed smiled and commented under his breath, "Oh, this is cute."

Jacob stepped in and separated the two before it could escalate, much to Zaeed's dismay. He was hoping for a fight.

The Comm Room doors parted to reveal a geth standing there, N7 armor welded to its chest and shoulder. A giant hole from a rifle shot went straight through its gut. You could see right through it. Legion, the mobile platform that housed 1,183 individual geth programs, spoke in his rigid, distorted voice.

"We have queried multiple crewmembers, but we were not able to gain sufficient data ever since this unit lost power due to an EMP attack. Also…" It delayed for a second and a half before continuing. "Where is Shepard Commander?"

Tali sighed, disappointed. "I knew it would take more than just an EMP to kill you. I was hoping to dismantle you later, Legion."

"Noted, Creator Zorah. But that does not answer this unit's previous query. Where is Shepard Commander?"

* * *

"What are you getting at, Shepard?" Zaael questioned with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew what Shepard meant right when he said it, but he had to be sure.

The Commander of the _Normandy _leaned back in his seat and grinned at the quarian prisoner across from him. "I'm talking about not staying in here, Zaael. I'm talking about getting out."

"_Keelah_. You've only been in here a day, and you're already plotting an escape? Shepard, merely thinking of trying to get out is a bad idea. We quarians are the scapegoats in here; we get knocked around by the guards and made examples of." He paused and shuddered, his voice now filled with genuine sadness. "The first day I got here, was the same day a group of human and turian prisoners tried to escape. Before any of them were punished, quarian inmates were murdered. I was greeted with the bodies of twenty-two members of my species, all shot in the head. I've tried to look out for the quarians in here ever since…No one else will."

"But you can't be content with just rotting in here for the rest of your life?"

Zaael hoarsely commented between coughs, "I'm not dead… I'm not terminally ill… Better off than most."

Shepard stared at Zaael, not believing what he was hearing. "So, you're content with just sitting here? Even if you see your own people get mistreated and eventually die? No leader should act like that."

Zaael sighed. After a few minutes of silence, he stared off into the distance, not focusing on Shepard. "You didn't hear this from me. The reason why the last, and only, escape attempt failed, is because the wannabe escapees refused to work together. If you want even a small chance of getting out, you'll have to work with all the races. Krogan, turian, all of them. Each race has a de facto leader of sorts, one they can go to for leadership. You have enough time to start with humans today. Go to the east wing. Find the man named Carrick."

The human stood and thanked Zaael before starting off for the eastern wing. He felt Zaael grab his wrist.

"Wait." He ordered. "Remember, Commander. These are murderers and terrorists and such. Not kind in spirit at all. If they see you as a threat, you can end up hurt. Take this." He slipped a plastic object into Shepard's right hand. "Keep it concealed at all times. Guards love finding that kind of stuff on people."

"Why is it made from plastic?" Shepard inspected the weapon skeptically. It looked frail with no cutting edge, with just a sharpened tip.

"It's plastic because it won't show up on scanners like the metal ones do." Zaael explained. "I can carry a metal blade with more ease due to my suit. It has armor plating fused with the rest of it, so I can hide blades like mine without worry. You can't. So you're stuck with a plastic 'knife,' if you can call it that."

The alien motioned for one of his friends to come over. "Keelan! Go with Shepard. Be his brains and brawns."

"Aye." Keelan'Massus nodded and stood from his seat. This was the first time Shepard got a good look at him. Keelan was tall and muscular, unusual for a quarian. Even the males in the Flotilla Marines were somewhat slim. "I'll make sure he won't do anything too dumb."

He patted Shepard's shoulder and nodded as he started off down the hall, where two guards flanked the entrance. Shepard noticed that their fingers subtly slid into the trigger guards of their weaponry, but Keelan either didn't notice or didn't care as he passed through without a second's notice by the guards. Shepard attempted to do the same, only to have the large turians block him.

"Halt." The first one ordered as he shoved his talons outward, "Saw you talkin' with dem quarians over there."

Shepard shrugged. "So what if I was, officer?"

A fist cracked right between the human's eyes, sending him backwards. The turian pointed a sharp claw at Shepard and snarled, "First of all, you don't speak back unless I want you to. Secondly, I ain't no fuckin' cop. I'm a Black Talon. You address me as 'sir.' You got me?"

Shepard balled a fist and looked up, ready to strike back, but Keelan shook his head and waved his hands. _Don't even think about it._

The human loosened his fist and apologized to the alien in front of him. It took Shepard all that he had to not retaliate, but doing so against an armed commando with just a plastic weapon, well the results wouldn't be pretty. "Sorry, _sir. _Won't happen again…"

Grinning, the guard nodded his head and lifted his rifle over his shoulder, "Damn straight, human. Damn straight."

"Is there something you need, sir?" Shepard asked, eager to get to this Carrick before he would be forced to return to his cell.

The second turian interjected, his eyes focused on a data pad in his hands. "Nah. Just needed to keep you waiting for a bit while you got scanned. You're free to move on."

Shepard opened his mouth to question the alien, but his eyes found a discreetly placed device mounted on the low ceiling. While the guard was harassing him, he was being scanned the whole time. The pair of Talons parted and Shepard went to Keelan's side again. He called the human a moron and warned him about the guards, "Things here ain't like what they are at your wussy human prisons. No such thing as police brutality in here."

"You don't say." Shepard grunted as he rubbed his nose.

Both human and quarian marched down the halls and wings of the penitentiary, going past several cell blocks and guard posts. The whole time, the pair came under at least two sets of eyes at all times, it was impossible to avoid being watched in here, whether the eyes be guard or prisoner.

"So, what are you in for, Keelan?" The Spectre asked as the east wing grew near.

Keelan answered back quickly, with no hesitation. "Killed thirty-six people. Blew up a Migrant Fleet freighter." He held up two thumb and index finger, forcing them close, but they never quite touched. "Came _this _close to blowing Omega in half."

"Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't be in here if that was all a joke." Keelan responded, still rather calmly. "Not everyone here has an 'I'm innocent and misunderstood' story. Most, if not all, have done what they've been accused of. Me? I like blowing shit up."

"Don't they have the Flotilla Marines?"

Keelan laughed for a long time before finally responding, "Tried the Marines 'bout twelve years ago. All you did was run errands for the damned Science and Tech Divisions. Three years with them, and all I got out of it was one firefight with the geth. And we ran away. Couldn't use my talents once." He cracked his knuckles as he remembered what Keelan though was his finest moment. "So after the mission, I took enough plastic explosives to cut an Alliance Carrier in half, and blew my birth-ship to hell."

"So you murdered your own people?"

"No, no! I made sure everyone was off the ship before I did it. I blew it up to prove a point." He rubbed his arm and gave a nervous sigh, "It was kinda also my letter of resignation from the Migrant Fleet. No, those thirty-six dead came on Omega, two years after that. I was hired to take down Aria T'Loak. They didn't care how I did it, they just wanted it done. Doubt they expected me to try to destroy the whole station."

Shepard was starting to get a little nervous with the fact he was conversing with a quarian whose favorite hobby was blowing things up. "And those thirty-six dead?

"Yeah… _Most_ of them were Aria's mercs." Keelan cleared his throat. "Two were non-combatants, asari trying to get away from the firefight." He paused and put a hand to his visor. "I didn't mean to shoot 'em. But they popped out of nowhere and I just reacted. One millisecond they're alive, and bang, they're dead. Obviously, I didn't blow up Omega. I was caught just before I set the final charge, and now I'm here, on the inside for seven years as of last month."

Shepard looked up to find a holographic sign indicating the eastern wing. This part of the prison was much less diverse than Shepard's, mostly humans here. Dozens of people gathered in small groups allover the large room, some talking, others just sitting around quietly. The few aliens here were salarians, and they kept to the corner amongst themselves.

None of them noticed Shepard walking in, but as Keelan came in, several sapiens took notice. Some just watched with suspicion, and Shepard noticed others reaching behind their backs, probably reaching for weapons. Before Shepard could warn his companion, a gruff voice filled the room as if on a loudspeaker.

"Quarian! What brings you here?" A sea of people parted in the center of the wing, and a very large man stepped out. His hair was gray and his skin was wrinkled, but he was very well-built and the scars tracing down the left side of his head were proof this man had seen hell and lived to tell about it.

Whoever he was, he was important enough to warrant the attention of the guards on the upper balconies, who now readied their rifles. He shoved Shepard out of the way and got right in Keelan's face, or visor, so to speak. "What are you doing here, alien?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, human?" Keelan answered back confidently. Shepard could tell the quarian had a grin across his face, just by his tone.

The old man brandished a knife, made of rusted metal, and placed it against Keelan's shoulder. "How about I cut open your suit and make you nice an' sick?"

Keelan retrieved his own weapon, placing the cold steel against the human's throat. "How about I cut open your neck and make you nice an' dead?"

The guards in the room, either on the ground or up above, watched with interest. They wanted to see if these two would cut each other to pieces.

The human's stone cold eyes stared right at Keelan's for what felt like minutes. After a few moments, he smiled and began to laugh. His bellows mad Shepard's ears vibrate. The man sheathed his blade along the band of his pants and held out his hand, still smiling. "Keelan, good to see ya, mate."

Keelan put his knife away and shook the human's hand with a strong grip. "Likewise, Carrick, likewise."

The guards looked disappointed.

Carrick turned back to Shepard, who had been waiting there, rather confused. "Who's the pup here? New guy?"

"Yep. Name's Shepard. Guy wanted to talk to you."

The guards above nodded to the one below, who then began to move towards the two in the center. A turian began to shout as he forced his way through the crowds, "Drop the weapons, now!"

Keelan looked to Carrick, who nodded back. The quarian reluctantly pulled out his blade again and held it in the air, Carrick doing the same. Two guards forced themselves through the crowd with shotguns and fired upon the two. A storm of rubber pellets slammed into the two prisoners, sending them to the floor in painful heaps. Both turians secured the weapons and yanked the inmates to their feet.

The sergeant screamed in Carrick's face, "You're lucky we don't throw your ass in the pit again, Carrick! Only reason why I don't is because there ain't blood on the floors this time. Don't push me, human."

Carrick gave a small smile and looked down at his feet, "It won't happen again, sir."

The alien slammed the butt of his shotgun into Carrick's ribs. "Damn right it won't." He then turned and yelled to the crowd as he pumped his weapon, letting the spent shell casing fall to the ground, "Nothing to see here! Move along!"

Other inmates either returned to their business or shuffled out of the wing, not wanting to get shot like the other two.

Shepard helped Keelan to his feet, "You alright?"

Keelan groaned and brushed off his enviro-suit. "Ergh, yeah. No suit punctures, I think. Damn rubber pellets still hurt like hell though."

Carrick laughed at him and crossed his arms. Shepard noticed multiple tattoos along his thick arms, designs of dragons wrapped around his biceps, while what seemed like a military unit's patch was engraved on each forearm. His jumpsuit was faded and the sleeves were gone, but the number on his chest was still discernable.

"So you're Carrick?" Shepard asked as he turned to the much older man.

He nodded and held out his hand. "The one and only."

Shepard shook the prisoner's meaty hand. The hand of an experienced killer, no doubt.

"Come." Carrick ordered, motioning to a table in the far corner. "It's a blind spot from the guards, give us a little privacy. You coming, Keel?"

The quarian shook his head, "No. Gotta take care of other things before the day's over. See you two later."

Carrick said goodbye and wrapped an arm over Shepard's shoulders, guiding the Commander to the tables. "Well there, Mysterious Stranger, I don't believe I properly got your name?"

"Shepard."

His brow shot up, "Just Shepard? You don't have a first name?"

The Spectre hesitated, "Well…it's-"

Lifting his hand, Carrick cut in, "No, no. It's alright. Pretty obvious you don't wanna tell me. I can live with Shepard. Good, strong name anyways. Fits you well."

They both sat on top of the steel table and placed their backs against the wall. The whole wing sat in front of them. Cells, prisoners, and guards were all laid out in front of them. From here, you could see anyone approaching for yards before you had to react. Carrick coughed into his hand before crossing his arms over his chest, his voice was still gruff as he spoke, "So, what can I do for ya? Need drugs, dirty vids? I can get things most can't in here. Don't believe those salarian pricks when they try to sell you 'high quality items.'"

Shepard smiled. "No, none of that. Would you say that you more or less represent humanity in here?"

Carrick rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Did Zaael tell you that?"

"Pretty much."

"Glad he still thinks so highly of me." Carrick commented as he traced the scars that lanced all the way down his head. "Well, I somewhat lead humanity through this little hellhole. But I doubt you came all this way just to ask me that, 'cuz then this was just a waste of time."

Right to the point. Shepard liked this guy. "I'm not interested in staying in here for very long, Carrick. But I'm going to need help."

Carrick's kind expression changed to that of disgust. "You've been in here one day, and you want out? Either you got no balls, or you need to go to the damn psych ward." He yanked Shepard by his collar, forcing them nose to nose. "You insult me, Shepard. You wanna know how long I've been in here? Twenty-six years."

"That's a long time, for any man." Shepard stated, shoving Carrick back.

"Hell yes it is. Even longer when you think of escape all the damn time. That's how you go crazy, if you keep thinking of getting out."

"So what, you don't want to get out?" Shepard questioned skeptically.

"I want to get out, don't doubt that…" The large man answered with a nod, before turning to the man next to him. He looked at Shepard for a good long time, not saying a word. He finally spoke up, a tiny grin wrinkling his cheeks, "You remind me of me when I first landed in here. Security was lighter back then, escape was possible, but the guards were meaner. All you had to do was breathe and they'd beat you till your teeth fell out."

"What makes escape impossible now?"

Carrick sighed and began to explain the long list of security upgrades Last Dawn received when Warden Tordun took control. Twenty years ago, advanced scanners, able to find most form of metallic weaponry on a subject. Eighteen years ago, advanced training for the guards, allowing them to find more ways to quell riots or unruly inmates. Thirteen years ago, VI controlled turret system. At a flick of a switch, high caliber turrets could mow down inmates and leave guards unscathed. Finally, nine years ago, each room was individually pressurized and air was regulated. At the control of Captain Farrax, breathable air would be pumped from the rooms, able to suffocate anyone without a rebreather within minutes.

"The stuff they have here ain't humane," Carrick pointed as he stared out over his fellow inmates. "…but it sure as hell keeps order. The only escape attempt that I've been around for was a little over a year ago. Humans and turians formed a tentative alliance and tried to get out, but their relationship went south and someone dropped the ball. After they were caught, Farrax shot some quarians for the hell of it, and then individually tortured and 'disposed of' each collaborator." Carrick gave a sick chuckle. "He was busy for weeks."

"So there's no feasible way out of here?"

"No." Carrick grunted with little care. "At least, not from the inside. If I were a guard, my biggest worry wouldn't just be the inmates. It would be people on the _outside _trying to get in."

A harsh alarm filled the prison, and Carrick sighed loudly. "Another fuckin' early alarm. Head back to your cell, Shepard, and do it quick. We'll talk later."

* * *

"_Garrus. It's good to hear from you again."_

Her cool voice filled Garrus' head. It had lost its innocence from two years ago though. Her words had become almost mechanical now, little emotion slipped through, even when she wanted it to.

"Liara, it's good to see you too." Garrus replied with his best smile as he looked at the hologram of the asari in front of him. Her blue-toned skin was flawless, her hips just right, and her eyes piercing. Liara was an example of asari beauty, and the outfit she wore sure helped too. She had matured so much from the awkward little scientist she once was. The galaxy had turned her cold, but tiny flares of her old warmth still appeared from time to time.

Liara placed a finger on her chin and asked, _"What's wrong, Garrus?"_

The turian sighed slowly and looked at the walls behind Liara's image. "It's about Shepard, he's been taken…"

Liara stayed silent for a second, but she her reply was still calm. _"I had heard faint reports of something happening to him, but I didn't think much of it. Do you… do you know what happened?"_

"Yeah…" He replied as he rubbed the scars along his face. "The _Normandy _got hit by an EMP, and these turian commandos boarded. They called themselves the 'Black Talons,' and before we knew it, Shepard was knocked out cold and nabbed right out from under us. Joker and Tali are taking it the hardest."

"_What about you?"_

"I was right there, could have put a bullet in that bastard Farrax's brain…"

"_Farrax?" _Liara interrupted, her eyes wide. _"Kilhai Farrax, perhaps?"_

"I think that was his name, yeah." Garrus was starting to get uneasy from Liara's look. "You know the guy?"

"_He's only one of the most infamous anti-quarian military figures on Palaven. Unofficially, at least." _Liara grabbed a data pad from an assistant out of view and read it. She looked back up at Garrus. _"It is remarkable how skilled this man is though, how much experience he's gained. He's put down riots and skirmishes on turian colonies, and he was once credited with ending a large war over resources. Many view him as a figure of respect and bravery, but his extreme racial policies kept him from every reaching a rank higher than captain… the rest is classified."_

"How does any of this help us, Liara?" Garrus crossed his arms and huffed.

"_Oh, sorry." _The asari apologized and brought up a holo-panel by her. _"My friends on Omega have spotted a Black Talon vessel, the __**Kerridian**__. Goddess…it looks like the Normandy."_

"Focus, Liara."

"_Right. It seems they've just docked at Omega. The vessel is helmed by a Commander Gorrun Falan. Start with them if you want to know where they took Shepard. I'll try from my end." _Her cold composure broke for a brief moment, letting the real Liara come through._ "Thank you for leaving me in the loop, Garrus. I'll help you get Shepard back. I'm not going to let him die on us again."_

Her image disappeared before the former C-Sec officer could thank her. Garrus rubbed the back of his neck and called out loudly, "EDI?"

"_Yes?"_

"Get us to Omega. We just got ourselves a lead."

* * *

**Captain Farrax's Private Quarters, Last Dawn Penitentiary.**

Farrax leaned back in his chair, one foot kicked up on his desk. He held a small data pad in his hand and looked over the lines of information very slowly, examining each word meticulously.

_First Name: *Classified*_

_Last Name: Shepard_

_Gender: Male_

_Age: 31_

_Place of Birth: *Classified*_

_Military Service: Graduate of the N7 Special Forces Program. Quickly reached rank of Lieutenant Commander. Thought to be the sole survivor of a thresher maw attack on Akuze, where his entire unit was wiped out. Assigned to serve under Captain David Anderson aboard the SSV Normandy as XO. Given command of the Normandy after he was christened as the first human Spectre. Killed in action while out on a patrol searching for geth outposts. A military funeral was held for the Commander, even though Alliance Search teams were unable to acquire his body._

Farrax noticed a small link under Shepard's service history, a vid of his funeral. The turian clicked on it.

**Presidium, Citadel. Four Months after Commander Shepard was Listed as KIA.**

_Large crowds lined up around a large courtyard. Tall trees reached into the artificial sky of the Citadel as six Alliance Marines marched down an open aisle, an empty black casket upon their shoulders. An 'N7' was emblazoned on the hood of the coffin, along with a red blood-stripe tracing straight down. A Systems Alliance Navy flag was draped over the casket, the seal of the Alliance on top. Servicemen of all ranks lined each side of the aisle, rifles in their white-gloved hands._

_Humans, turians, asari, salarian, volus, elcor, and almost every other known species stood and watched in total silence as the casket passed. The marines gently placed the casket before a large podium, a single microphone say on top. Sounds of repair teams would've filled the air around the Citadel today, but the Council halted work for today, to pay respect to the fallen human._

_Top Alliance brass filled the front row of chairs, a sea of blue uniforms. Generals, Admirals, leaders of the armies, commanders of fleets, all here to honor not an ordinary man, but something more. A symbol for mankind's best._

_Captain Hannah Shepard was in attendance, her grayish brown hair wrapped in a tight bun and hidden under her cap. Her face was set in stone as she watched the casket be placed just mere feet from her. Any crying over her dead son either had already been done, or would be done later in private. Not in front of her peers and superiors though._

_Admiral Steven Hackett stood near the podium, with his hands behind his back, waiting for the marines to leave before he stood to speak. His uniform was spotless and covered in commendations and medals, showing the sheer number of years this man put into the Alliance. His gray mustache was neatly trimmed, his snowy hair also groomed. This man led the Fifth Fleet during the attack on the Citadel, where he lost eight vessels saving the dreadnaught Destiny Ascension from destruction, saving the Council in turn._

_Newly-appointed Councilor Anderson kept both eyes on the casket, staring at the N7. It had become an unofficial symbol for Shepard. You could see it everywhere in the news. Sometimes instead of a picture of Shepard's face, the N7 was used. _

_Hackett's speech was short, as he recounted the accolades of Shepard, and his numerous accomplishments throughout service with the Alliance and the Spectres. His deep voice echoed over the crowds that watched and listened in silence. _

"_And though we were not able to recover Shepard's body, his spirit represents what humanity, and what every living being, can stand for. Bravery. Honor. Service to a righteous cause. 'When one of our brothers is lost, it is one too many.'" Hackett closed his eyes and nodded before he stepped down._

_Seven Servicemen approached the casket, old-fashioned bolt-action rifles in their gloved hands. They filed in a neat row, shoulder to shoulder, facing Shepard's empty coffin._

_Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams appeared in front of them, in full service dress. She saluted the casket before turning on her heels to the left, and marched next to the first Serviceman. After a moment of silence, she yelled to her fellow soldiers. "Servicemen! Present… Arms!"_

_Seven rifles rose from the shoulders of each soldier, held out in front by two hands._

"_Ready!"_

_Seven gloved hands pulled back the bolts on the rifles. Golden cartridges were forced into cold, grooved barrels. _

"_Aim!"_

_Seven barrels pointed above the casket, aimed for the air. Ashley's eyes drifted over to Shepard's coffin and she hesitated slightly. _

"_Fire!"_

_Thunder filled the courtyard and Hannah Shepard flinched._

"_Ready!"_

_The Servicemen pulled back the bolts. Old shells hit the ground, new cartridges were forced in._

"_Aim!"_

_Rifles were pointed back in the air again, ready to unleash._

"_Fire!"_

_Thunder ripped throughout again, but Hannah Shepard refused to flinch again._

_This was continued once more before the Servicemen were dismissed, but Chief Williams stayed behind. She moved to the head of Shepard's coffin and went to attention. Six Marines returned, the same ones who carried the box in. Three filed to each side, and with tender hands, lifted the Alliance flag that was draped over the coffin. Carefully, each soldier took part in folding the flag. The process was meticulously slow, each soldier making sure their part of the fourteen folds was carried out with perfection._

_After the fourteenth fold, the first Marine took the tricorn folded pennant and held it firmly between his hands. He turned to Ashley and held the flag out, the embroidered logo of the Navy sat right on top. She took it and received a salute from the young soldier. With precision, she returned the salute and Ashley turned on her heels again._

_She then slowly marched towards Captain Hannah Shepard._

_Ashley kneeled and looked up at the Captain, "Ma'am, on behalf of Fleet Admiral Henry Deville, the Systems Alliance Naval Command, and a grateful Earth, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to humanity and a forever grateful Navy." _

_Ashley could see the torment behind Captain Shepard's eyes, and as she slowly took the flag from her, the Gunnery Chief added softly, "His crew loved him very, very much." Ashley's voiced faltered as she felt hot liquid sting her vision, "Skipper was the best person I have ever served under."_

_With that, Ashley rose back to her feet and saluted the Captain, who with the flag tucked under left arm, stood and returned the salute._

Farrax paused the video and shook his head. Human funerals were too long and depressing. Nothing you could do for the dead, or undead in this case.

Shepard was alive and kicking now, but the turian captain just wanted to see how long it would stay that way, though. If he doesn't piss off any of his own species with his do-gooder attitude, than surely the aliens would finish him off.

His computer beeped, and Farrax looked down to find a message waiting for him. Dragging a sharp talon over the screen, he pressed down on the small icon.

_From: *Unknown ID*_

_To: Captain Kilhai Farrax of the Black Talons_

_Subject: Commander Shepard_

_This has carried on long enough for me, Farrax. You are imprisoning humanity's, no not just humanity's, but all known sentient life's best chance at __survival__._ _Sovereign and the Collectors were just the start, Captain. There are many horrors out there, and Shepard may be the key._

_So I'll ask you, one final time. Please send him to me at the coordinates I designate, and our deal will commence as planned. You will get no squabble from us, and you will be paid in full as we agreed upon._

_I've warned you of the consequences._

_Please, don't let it come to that._

Farrax grinned and quickly typed up his reply. An elaborate 'screw you' should work. Shepard deserves to see what the dregs of galactic society looks like.

_From: Captain Kilhai Farrax of the Black Talons_

_To: *Unknown ID*_

_Subject: Re: Commander Shepard_

_As much as I would love to comply, I do not believe that would be the best course of action. Frankly, Commander Shepard deserves to see what he's been killing all these years. I know if I hand him over to your custody right away, he'll just end up dead. At least in a prison, I can control what happens._

_Shepard stays with me._

_Sincerely, Kilhai Farrax_

He sent the message just as Lieutenant Antalus entered the room, his gait was plagued with a limp. The Captain smiled as he fondly remembered the bullet he lodged in Antalus' foot.

"Is there something you need, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir." Antalus grunted as he made his way towards the wall, where he leaned against to keep the pressure of his foot. "Just giving you a status report."

"Well," Farrax said with a grin, "As those humans say, 'don't keep me in suspense.' Out with it."

"One of my sergeants saw Shepard talking with both Zaael and Carrick."

Sighing, Farrax rubbed his forehead slowly, "You came all the way up here on a bullet-riddled foot to tell me that they were talking to each other? Let him talk with the damn humans, and I could care less about the quarians."

"I think he's forming alliances, sir."

"Hmm." Farrax scratched his chin and thought deeply for a moment. "Well then…I suggest you get security to keep a closer eye on them."

"Aye, sir." Antalus nodded and reached for a communicator on his belt.

Farrax held up his hand and chided, "Oh no, no. I need you to go down to security yourself. I can trust only you right now."

Antalus looked down at his foot and gave a pained expression. The security office was on the other side of the prison. A painful journey for the Lieutenant. "But sir…"

"No, no…" Farrax said as he grinned from ear to ear, another human expression. "You need to do it yourself."

The Lieutenant sighed and limped out of the office. Farrax chuckled and rested both feet on his desk again just as his computer beeped. He looked at the message and stopped laughing. His smile died away immediately.

_From: *Unknown ID*_

_To: Captain Kilhai Farrax of the Black Talons_

_Subject: Re: Re: Commander Shepard_

_Captain. You just signed your own death warrant._

_Goodbye._

* * *

**Omega.**

EDI expertly guided the _Normandy _into the docking port and allowed the magnetic moorings to lock onto the hull of the ship. She sent a message to Garrus, who thanked her accordingly. Joker scratched his left knee, right above where a cast had wrapped around his leg. Chakwas said even after all the technological advances humanity has made, a cast was still the best way to treat breaks.

"Jeez…" The pilot complained, "Just wished they discovered a way to stop the damn itching."

"_You could've gotten an infection, Jeff. I would rather just have itching than no leg at all." _EDI chastised like a school teacher, and Joker didn't like it one bit.

"Well, with all due respect, babe…" Joker said as he tried to squeeze a finger under his cast, "…you don't have legs. Or skin for that matter. So you can't itch or scratch regardless."

"_Touché, Jeff. But I do have control over certain systems, as you are well aware of." _EDI snapped back. If she could smile, she would probably be doing that right now. _"You have an interesting taste in music, Mister Moreau."_

Joker gasped, "You didn't…"

"_My, I had no idea you were a fan of twentieth century boy bands. Now what if I played this over the intercoms all day?"_

"You could never prove they were from me." Joker said with a confident grin.

"_Quite the contrary. I've spent enough time around you to collect sufficient sound-bytes to use however I please." _Joker say in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. EDI couldn't help but ask, _"What? Don't believe me?"_

"Pretty much."

Joker's voice spoke right back at him, through the speakers. _"I'm Flight Lieutenant Jeffery Moreau, and this is my favorite song on the-"_

"Alright, alright! I take back what I said, Jesus…" Joker brought his personal files and quickly began to go through the music. "That ain't fair, EDI. I can't humiliate you like that."

"_You're right, Jeff. You can't."_

* * *

Garrus looked over the team. Everyone was there, including Jack. She said she was fine, but the untold hours she spent below decks having what Tali and Grunt described as a mental breakdown didn't bode well.

Zaeed huffed out loud, "I don't see any point in me being here. Frankly, I owe you people no loyalty. Ever since Shepard gave the Illusive Man the bird, the funds from Cerberus have mysteriously disappeared from my accounts. Maybe I should just leave, maybe I don't give a damn about you guys anymore."

"You're the only one here who has had experience with the Black Talons. I think that makes you a valuable asset." Jacob said, arms crossed over his chest. "Plus, Shepard helped you go after Vido."

"Too bad he let the bastard get away. Shoulda let me handle it."

"Well Shepard apparently convinced to stick around, did he not? Or am I mistaken?" Mordin commented with a smug grin.

Zaeed stayed quiet as everyone stared at him. His eyes darted to each crewmate. "Fine, fine. Guess I owe the SOB for not leaving me to die under that beam. Guess I owe him that much, but I don't work for free."

Garrus smiled. "Whatever loot we come across is yours, Zaeed."

Satisfied, the mercenary leaned against the wall and nodded slowly, satisfied.

The turian turned to the team, and explained the plan in detail. He, Tali, and Jacob would enter Afterlife, the club where this Commander Gorrun Falan was apparently residing, and slowly make their way towards him. Tali and Jacob would size up the opposition within the bar, not just any Black Talons, but also Aria T'Loak's guards and other mercs. This could get messy if it turned into a real firefight, so Garrus preached discretion, something he wasn't very good at but it was necessary.

"Jack, Samara, Thane, Grunt, Zaeed, Mordin, and Legion will be our backup, in case things go to hell… which they probably will."

"What about me?" Miranda spoke up, the anger obvious in her voice.

"You're on… 'tactical operations.' You're the Cerberus officer anyways, perfect for you." Garrus dismissed the woman with a wave of his hand.

Slamming her fist against the table that surrounded a holographic image of the _Normandy_, Miranda hissed as her skin glowed blue from a biotic flare, "We have one argument and you treat me like a child? Grow up, Vakarian!"

"I'm not the one throwing a fit, Miss Lawson." The turian replied.

Zaeed grinned at yet another argument between the two, but decided to play peacekeeper for once. "She'll be with us, Garrus. Now, find this Commander Falan and get me my money."

* * *

**Omega, Afterlife Club.**

The thumping bass rocked Garrus to the core, each boom from the music was more bone-racking than the last. Asari danced up on their platforms, scantily clad as usual. The bars were filled to peak capacity, someone always wanting another dose of alcohol to fill their veins. Dozens of conversations filled in with the music, but the former officer was used to working the clubs back on the Citadel, so he could tune out most of it.

He looked to his right to find Jacob sitting at a small table, some form of human liquor in a small glass in front of him.

Both Jacob and Tali had entered Afterlife five minutes ago, separately. No point in coming in all at once like a big group and just showing off the fact you were looking for someone.

Slowly walking to the center of the club, Garrus walked up to the bar, a salarian manning the drinks. Placing both hands on the table, he looked up at the bartender. "You see any turians 'round here?"

The salarian stopped cleaning the glass in his hands, "I see one right in front of me. Does that count?"

"Look pal, I don't need a smartass. Just some answers."

Placing the glass on the table, the bartender chuckled. "Could you be a bit more specific then? Can't get much out of 'any turians around here.'"

Garrus was starting to lose his patience, but he kept cool. "Guys with black tattoos all over their faces."

"Try downstairs. Think I saw them come through." He explained as he poured a drink into the glass he just cleaned. "Got something here for you turians, you interested in a drink?"

Garrus held up his hand and declined, he could get sloppy drunk when it came down to it, and acting like an ass wouldn't help anyone find Shepard. Turning for the door, Garrus looked towards Jacob and pointed to the floor.

_One floor below._

* * *

**Omega, Afterlife's Lower Level.**

Tali leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other. She picked a table near the entrance of the club, hoping for the best view without drawing too much attention to herself. But a quarian on Omega was rare, and she either got strange looks, or she got hit on by the turian clubbers.

And every time she turned them down, the look on their faces? Priceless.

She loved the music and noise. It reminded her of the Fleet, but it also let her know she wasn't alone. Albeit she was in the company of criminals, it was better than spending a few hours alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two rather large turians approaching, dressed in combat armor. She was prepared to think up her twentieth letdown, but Tali noticed in the dim light the black tattoos covering their faces. Black Talons.

She clenched a fist as her blood began to boil, but she quickly got her emotions in check. This was probably her only chance to find out where their commander was hiding, so she would play along with them.

The first turian sat down right across from her, while the other one apparently got nervous and walked away quickly.

This guy was obviously drunk. She could easily tell from his slurring.

"Hey there…Wh-Wha-What brings a quarian like you here?"

Tali grinned. This might be easier than she thought. "Oh you know, the drinks, the parties…" She leaned over the table, using her body to her advantage. The turian couldn't keep his attention on Tali's visor, that was for sure. "…the men."

"Well thannnn…" He slurred slowly. "I think I can help with that, if you don't mind me saying."

"Oh, can you?" Tali grinned as her eyes trailed to the left. A turian sat at a barstool, a green design covering the right shoulder pauldron. A stack of empty glasses filled either side of the table he leaned on. His shoulders were low and his eyes facing the ground. Tali turned her attention back to the drunken soldier in front of her, grabbed the neck piece of his armor and pulled him in close. "How about you do something for me?"

The turian smiled, probably thinking he had this in the bag. "Anything f-for you, babe."

"Who's the poor sap up at the bar, all alone?"

The Black Talon suddenly looked over his shoulder and nervously replied, "That's Commander Falan…" He placed a hand on Tali's arm, "I wouldn't waste my time with him. He's a complete downer."

"It's alright…" Tali said with a grin as she shoved the turian back into his seat before leaving to find a new table. "I'm not into turians anyways."

She could hear the alien mumble as she walked away, obviously disappointed. _"Damn, now I need a cold shower…or two."_

Finding a new spot on the other end of Afterlife, Tali noticed Garrus just walking in. He paused and looked to his left and right, probably looking for his quarian teammate. Tali waved her hand and Garrus made his way over quickly.

He sat down as Tali began to explain, "Their commander is currently docked at a bar at the back of the club. He doesn't look very happy."

"Noted."

"So, how do we wanna do this?" Tali asked over the pumping bass.

Garrus didn't reply at first, still in deep thought. Finally, he spoke up, "Jacob has us covered upstairs, no major opposition there. You know how many Talons are down here?"

"Besides the commander, two, I think." Tali explained. "One tried hitting on me, wanted to punch him right in his jaw. But there might be more. What are you going to do, though?"

"Well," Garrus sighed, "I'll go at it like this. I'll head over and talk to the guy, see if I can get him alone, and knock him out. Shouldn't be hard if he's wasted. If he's not confrontational, maybe we could walk out of here. After that, we get the hell out as fast as we can before any of his men notice. We gotta do this quick, though. I don't want to get shot in the ass."

With that, Garrus stood and made his way for the back of the club, to find a turian sitting on one of the stools, all alone. The bartender was at the far left, dealing with an unruly customer. He pulled up to a seat next to the turian.

The Commander's head was in his hands, elbows propped up on the table. Empty shot glasses surrounded the Black Talon officer, at least a dozen and a half.

"Can I help you, kid?" He grumbled, his voice low.

Garrus grinned, "Just enjoying the sights and the girls. What's a man like you hovering over a bar the whole night?"

The Black Talon looked up, his expression just saying _'what?' _

"Are you hitting on me, boy?"

Laughing, Garrus shook his hands, "No, no. I just-"

Falan smacked the table. "Damn it! I didn't come to Omega to stir up conversation. I came here to get hammered." He sighed and had the bartender pour him a new shot of liquor. "I came here to forget."

"Forget what?"

The Commander sniffed before downing another shot of liquor. He then pointed to his face, which was covered in scars, skin peeled away where his old colonial tattoos once inhabited. "Forget the pain, what I saw, what I've done. You see these scars; well they weren't caused by someone else. I did them to myself."

"Yourself?" Garrus mused, still trying to think of a way to get him out of here. "What do you mean?"

"When you are selected to become a Black Talon, there are usually about a thousand recruits. Fourteen weeks of hell is what we had to go through. About four hundred dropped out only after the second week. Another four hundred within the next twelve. Only two hundred were left after that, and I was damn proud to be one of them."

Falan sighed as he demanded another drink. "Final day, for your initiation, you're given a combat blade that's been superheated, and shear away your old markings, even if it was face paint and not tattoos… Still had to do it. I've never seen grown men shit their pants, but they came pretty close that day. One hundred and twenty refused to do it, so they were kicked out right on the spot."

Garrus gave an impressed whistle. He thought training to become a C-Sec officer was tough, but whatever they did was even worse. He could imagine brutal drill instructors literally beating out any imperfections from their recruits.

Falan gave a drunken chuckle, "My tats were the most elaborate. But I shaved 'em off, in one go. I was fuckin' ugly after that, but I earned the black markings of a Talon."

"Then why try to drink everything away? You sound proud."

"You don't know what they make you do, once you're one of them. I was forced to kill people, didn't matter who they were, just on order. Like varren. At first, it didn't faze me. Hell, I probably enjoyed the feeling of taking life at the pull of a trigger. Like I was a god." His hands pressed against his forehead, as if trying to force out the harsh memories. "But about a year in, the nightmares and flashbacks came. I relived the same kills over and over again. It wouldn't stop…"

Falan clenched his teeth. His hand fell upon the bar, knocking over several shot glasses. "The same brutal murders, come back over and over. And I can't make it stop…"

"Commander," Garrus started carefully, hoping to get the Commander to his feet, "You can come with us. You'll never have to answer to the Talons again."

The Talon scanned the man before him for a few moments, but eventually slowly nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. Tired of this shit."

Garrus eased the inebriated Commander to his feet and whispered into his communicator. "Tali, Jacob? Saddle up. We got Commander Falan."

* * *

Peace.


	4. Alliances, Old and New

Alliances, Old and New

* * *

**Earth, Alliance High Command. One Mile Underground.**

Ten admirals sat at a long, mahogany table, leather chairs occupied the perimeter. The hard wood was polished to a fine shine, the silver Alliance insignia glowed in the bright lighting of the reinforced room.

"All I'm saying is that we don't owe Commander Shepard or his crew, former and current, any loyalty!" The commander of the Sixth Fleet, Admiral Khalid Mohamed, shouted as he waved his hand through the air. "He's abandoned his Navy, and worked for those Cerberus terrorists! How can we trust him?"

Admiral Steven Hackett listened to his colleague carefully. The same Steven Hackett who led the Fifth Fleet when the Citadel came under attack. He saw eight ships destroyed in the defense of the _Destiny Ascension_, saving the Council in the process. Many would question his judgment after the battle, and a few still do today. In the pit of his gut though, what Shepard recommended him to do was the right thing, and Hackett would carry that to his grave with pride.

Rising from his chair, Hackett slammed a fist on the polished mahogany desk. Every admiral from the nine other fleets turned their heads and stared at him.

"Shepard is a goddamned hero." Hackett stated as he glared at Admiral Mohamed with baneful look. "He saved countless lives on the Citadel, both human and alien, without a moment's hesitation. He became the first human Spectre and has done nothing but help the Alliance since. He stopped a potential Reaper invasion, for Christ sakes! And you're willing to sit there and question his loyalty?"

Admiral Michaela Donovan, leader of the Ninth Fleet, spoke up. "He sacrificed eight ships to save a single dreadnought. Hundreds of human lives wasted, I should add." Her head bobbed as she gave a false chuckle. "And that Reaper BS? Please. Even the Council has dismissed that ludicrous theory."

"I won't crawl into a hole and pretend nothing's happening. Why would Shepard defend this unless it was the truth?" Hackett countered, determined to win this battle.

"I'll tell you why," Mohamed hissed as he rose from his chair as well. "Shepard's a nutcase. PTSD probably. The man is probably a psychiatric wreck! He's never lived in a certain place for more than a few months at a time, he saw his unit get slaughtered, and I'm sure _dying _didn't help his state of mind either! And then…to top this all off, he blows the Bahak system up! We could be at war with the Hegemony tomorrow!"

Hackett sighed and shook his head. So this is how we treat our heroes? Parade them around at first, and then dismiss them when politicians and other admirals see no more use in them. It was wrong…dead wrong.

"I won't stand for this." Hackett growled as he fought hard to keep his cool. He prepared to carry on with his words until a stern voice echoed throughout the room.

"Then take a seat, Steven."

Fleet Admiral Henry Deville stood at the entrance to the fortified meeting room, hands behind his back, feet together. His skin was wrinkled and dashed with the occasional scar. His hair a brackish tone of white and black, showing his years in service. This man had control of every fleet in the Alliance Navy. Deville was a tactical mastermind and a god among helmsmen.

"Room! Ten-hut!" Mohamed hollered as he went to attention.

Every admiral still in their chairs shot from them and stood stiff as boards, hands at their sides. Deville was the only person in the whole Alliance they would ever have go to attention for. To some, it was awkward. Most admirals here were used to others kissing their asses and saluting them. Now it was their turn.

"At ease, people." Deville removed his cap and wrung it in his hands. "I won't be here long, so take your seats."

He paced slowly to the front of the table as the other officers sat down, relaxing only a little. You didn't get visited by a Fleet Admiral every day after all.

Halting, Deville slowly looked over every man and woman in the room. He sighed and finally spoke, his tone precise and commanding.

"We all have our own opinions of Commander Shepard. He's stepped on all our toes at least once ever since he became a Spectre, but he has done untold wonders for the galaxy. I respect Shepard, and just like Admiral Hackett, I refuse to have his name tarnished as a traitor. Despite some of his questionable decisions." Deville paused for a brief moment, keeping his gaze on Mohamed now. "He will be treated as an Alliance officer should be. With respect. Is that clear, Admiral Mohamed?"

"Yes, sir." Mohamed nodded, his eyes drifting to the table in front of him.

Deville lifted his cold blue eyes away from the dark-skinned man and stared at the gray wall on the far side of the room. His body went still, only his mouth moving, "Commander Shepard has gone off the grid again. Not unusual for a Spectre, but my sources tell me he's been tagged and bagged by hostile forces. Taken alive to an unknown location by a turian special forces group known as the Black Talons."

"You mean someone's kidnapped Commander Shepard?" Hackett asked, not believing his superior.

Scratching his chin, Deville nodded. "Yes."

"So…what's the course of action?" Donovan asked, her voice slightly hesitant after hearing the news.

"Right now, we wait. Our spies are watching the _Normandy _and its crewclosely. From what we've gathered they're attempting to find their Commander as we speak. We'll let them handle the situation, and if necessary, I have a team forming that will move in to assist if necessary. Once Shepard gets out, and he will I assure all of you, we will let him answer for what he's done. Working with Cerberus is one thing, but what went down in the Bahak system…I'd like some answers."

The admirals remained silent, unable to respond at first to the flood of information suddenly thrown at them.

"What about the Council?" An admiral questioned after about a minute.

"Anderson received the news, and he's tried his best. Council won't lift a finger, or tentacle, or whatever at this. Shepard's crew is capable, they can get him out of wherever he is. We'll be there when they do, trust me. He may not be Alliance, but he's still one of us. We don't leave out people hanging. " Deville finished off with a grin.

"What about this team you mentioned?"

"It'll be formed of some of the best soldiers we have. Led by some of the best as well."

* * *

Garrus struggled with the drunken Commander Falan, the pumping of Omega's music electrified the air around him. The dancers whored around on stages or tables, their skin-tight clothing, or lack thereof, left nothing to the imagination.

"Damn," Falan uttered as his eyes found an asari. "She's pretty. You see the ass on tha-"

"That's nice, Commander. But I need you to work with me here." Garrus grunted as he walked past Tali's table. She nodded and slowly began to stand as Garrus headed for the back, towards the ramp that led to the upper half of Afterlife. The other two Talons failed to notice as the two turians hastily made their way through the door, the quarian close behind.

Garrus led the Talon officer past Jacob's table up top, and he fell in behind Tali. The former cop didn't like this. It was too easy. He expected a confrontation, a gunfight, and a lot of bodies. But this was surprisingly smooth. As they proceeded towards the front door, Garrus couldn't believe they were in the clear.

_Maybe for once things will go my way. _He thought to himself.

The metal doors parted to reveal a squad of turians, all clad in black armor and armed with automatic rifles.

_Maybe not._

Garrus shoved the wasted officer from his shoulders and into the corner, giving him a little cover. With that, the turian rolled to his left, his hand reaching for the shotgun strapped to his back. Tali quickly threw a table up and slid behind it. Jacob's dark skin flared purple and blue as his biotic barriers lit up. He wouldn't need cover for awhile.

"Release the Commander, right now!" A turian called out from the squad of commandos. "And maybe we'll kill you quickly." He shrugged and then added softly, "Probably not."

The two other drunks from before came from behind Jacob, their sidearms drawn. The Cerberus soldier threw his arms back and a wave of pure energy slammed into the turians, sending them flying backward, screaming. Their yelling stopped as they impacted the wall, falling limp to the ground. The human grinned.

Bullets ripped hot streaks through the air as the commandos unleashed hell, breaking their formation in favor of cover.

Garrus shouted into his communicator as a hot round pinged off the side of his cover, "Team two, move in now! I need fire support!"

With that, Garrus spotted an unprotected Talon and fired. His shells slammed into the shielding, causing a white-hot flare across the barrier before it failed. Tali rose from her cover and fired a single shot from her pistol. Black blood spurted high as the Talon slumped to the ground, a high caliber round dug deep into his brain. A volley of assault rifle bullets reciprocated the loss, slamming into Tali's shielding. The quarian barely got back to cover, her shields in the red zone.

Jacob, now with pistol in hand, slowly began to approach the commandos. He drew their fire as Garrus took another Talon's shields down, and Jacob fired in Tali's place, taking another turian's life.

Now more gunfire entered the fray, not from either party. The second team arrived, with Grunt and Jack leading the charge.

The convict's tattooed skin flared bright blue as she lifted two Talons off the ground and crashed them against a steel bulkhead, the loud crack of bones breaking replaced terrified screams.

Grunt simply charged in, giving a mighty battle cry as he crushed the closest Black Talon into the cover he hid behind, killing him with his weight alone.

The krogan lifted his shotgun and fired upon the next Talon, his shields failed instantly and the remaining rounds pierced his armor. He doubled up and slumped over, blood pouring from the large holes in his chest plate.

But the Talons didn't fall into confusion, like lesser-trained soldiers or mercenaries might. They began to group together, keeping their guns pointed at their foes as a strategic fallback was made. No sense in keeping a compromised position. Soon their concentrated volleys of fire kept the _Normandy _crew at bay, but the Talons did not take a talented assassin into account.

They failed to notice that their rearmost guard had disappeared, but a green flash of a drell assassin soon made its presence known, however briefly. Bodies fell, with broken necks or bullets to the hearts, it didn't matter. A few managed to escape from the hell as one turian gave Thane more trouble than usual.

The lead turian fired in controlled bursts, as did his men. No matter how bad their situation seemed, they refused to break unit cohesion. If it came to hell or high water, they were staying a team.

They began to chant something out loud, something surprising. Not orders, but a creed of some sort.

"We are Talons! We are a unit! One spirit that will never be broken!"

"ONE SPIRIT!"

Thunder from a sniper rifle roared throughout Omega, and a Talon fell to the ground, the top of his head gone. Another crack of thunder, and yet another one fell, a hole the size of a melon in his chest. Black blood smeared everywhere, coating the final four aliens that fought against a now overwhelming wave of enemies.

An asari Justicar and a Cerberus officer worked in tandem and flung missiles of energy into the group, sending four alien commandos to the gore covered floor. A salarian scientist killed one of them quickly, while a mercenary mowed down the rest with a smile, his rifle slowly overheating as bullets sheared into helpless victims.

Zaeed turned back to the carnage in front of Afterlife and shouted as he ejected the burning thermal clip from his weapon, "Garrus! You got your man?"

The C-Sec officer grinned as he yanked a panicking Gorrun Falan out of the entrance of Omega, devoid of guards or civilians. "Right here! Let's go!"

* * *

**Citadel, Flux.**

Operations Chief Ashley Williams downed another round of whatever the hell was in her glass and leaned back in her chair, letting the unusually soft music fill her ears. Finally, a club that didn't need to blast music all the time. Her bulky combat armor made sitting in the tiny chair difficult, but she didn't care. Although she was off-duty at the moment, a long day made her decide against changing out of her white armor.

Plus she's had a rough past two years, so Ashley earned a stop at a local dive.

Stopping a Reaper invasion, watching the first _Normandy _go up in flames with her Commander onboard, and spending the next two years trying to forget everything only to have Shepard appear before her on Horizon again and turn everything upside down again… Needless to say it all left a bad taste in her mouth.

She was about to call the waitress over for another drink when the Chief noticed two bouncers dragging a rowdy turian out. Ashley grinned at first, but is quickly faded when she noticed a large man start harassing another human waitress. He grabbed her by the arm and mumbled something, but the marine couldn't make it out.

This ass was obviously wasted.

Ashley rose from her seat and made a beeline for the encounter. Everyone else either didn't care about this, or just didn't want to interfere with a 'human squabble.' As Ash approached, she was surprised by the sheer size of this guy. His biceps were massive, his skin covered in sloppy tattoos. A fresh scar traced down his left cheek, most likely from a pocket blade. A thug, probably a seedy bastard from Chora's Den, off duty.

This guy reeked of cheap liquor and cigarettes.

"Come on sweetie, just give me your number or something…" He chuckled slowly, "… You won't regret it, I _promise_."

The red-haired girl yanked back her captive arm and threatened, "I'll get the bouncers back in here. They'll make sure you won't be able to walk again."

Chuckling softly, the man responded with fire in his eyes, "I'll make sure _you _won't be able to walk for awhile, if you get my drift…"

Gasping, the girl swiped her hand across the drunk's scarred cheek, "You goddamned pig!" She turned and yelled for the volus on the far side of the club, "Doran! Get Fred and Mike back in here!"

Ashley picked up the pace, shoving past bystanders as her eyes focused in on the man. This wasn't going to end well.

Roaring, the thug grabbed the girl's shoulder and spun her around as he raised a fist and slammed it into her gut. She stumbled backwards and ran into a table, tripping over it. Waitress and table fell to the ground hard, drinks spilling everywhere.

He slurred something vulgar as he took a step towards her. He raised a meaty paw into the air, only to have it yanked back at the wrist by a strong hand. Turning his head, the man's gray eyes found a fierce looking woman with black hair glaring right back at him.

"Didn't your mom and dad ever tell to not hit women?" Ashley hissed as she readied herself. Before the man could open his mouth to reply, Ash lifted her left elbow above his chest and dropped it hard, releasing her grip on his wrist at the same time.

The hulk of muscle slammed against the hard floor, his head smacking against the metal. Ash forced her boot against his sternum, not letting him get up.

"You wanna try hitting me, too?"

Grunting, the man beneath her boot grinned as his eyes raced up and down her armored figure, "Hit? Nah. You'd get somethin' special."

The Chief lifted her boot and brought it down on his forehead, knocking this two-bit pervert out cold. She looked at his unconscious form for a moment, and felt dirty just standing near the guy. Her eyes turned away from him and found the fallen waitress, who was still on the ground, clutching her stomach.

The marine recognized this girl. It was Jenna, the same one who Shepard helped get out of Chora's Den. Ash approached and held out a hand, "You okay?"

Looking up, the redhead took her hand and was lifted from the ground.

"Yeah…" She stated as her stomach was racked with pain. A bruise would eventually form, no doubt. "I'll live. Glad you took care of this guy. He's been bugging me all night. Never thought he'd hit me…"

"I'll make sure he won't come within a mile of this place again." Ash threatened as she noticed the two bouncers finally making their way back into the club. Both men grabbed the thug and dragged him to his feet. Before they took him out, Ash grabbed the first bouncer by the shoulder, "Hey, give C-Sec a call. Tell them this piece of crap assaulted one of your waitresses."

The bouncer nodded, and they proceeded to throw the man out.

Ash rubbed her hands together, pleased at the job well done as a stony voiced called out from behind her. "Operations Chief Williams?"

Turning on her heels, Ashley found an Alliance officer standing before her, in full dress uniform, the single silver bars of a First Lieutenant on his shoulders. Straightening up, Ashley brought a hand to her forehead in a salute. "Yes, sir!"

He returned the salute and let her go at ease. Slowly, he removed his cap to reveal close-cut blonde hair. It looked natural, not dyed Blonde had become increasingly rare during the twenty-second century. The Lieutenant himself filled out the uniform well, with broad shoulders and thick arms earned from weeks of boot camp. His cheeks had a slight point to them, his chin square, and eyes of a deep green.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head at once. If he was in here the whole time, then he could somehow deem the action she took unnecessary. Or maybe this could be another assignment. _Dear God don't let it be an assignment, _Ash thought to herself, _I just got back._

The Lieutenant held out his hand and introduced himself, "My name's Randy Crowe." He hesitated as he looked over at the mess next to her, "Pleased to meet you."

Ash nodded and shook his paw, "Likewise, sir. Sorry about this, it's just that-"

"I saw what happened." Crowe interrupted, and then continued with a mischievous grin. "Couldn't have done it better myself. From the looks of that guy, he deserved a kick to the head and then some."

Grinning, the Chief sighed slowly as the music began to rise in volume, the bass rattling her armor. Guess the music couldn't stay quiet forever. Crowe seemed annoyed by it as he stuck a finger in his and said aloud, "I need you to come with me, Chief! You're being folded into a new unit!"

That wasn't right. She had been given her first actual off-duty time in nearly a year, and now she was being reassigned? Ash was prepared to reply with a few choice words that Tennyson himself probably wouldn't approve of, but Lieutenant Crowe beat her to the punch.

"Look, Chief I know this is confusing, but I'll sort everything out once we get to the human embassy. You need to speak with Councilor Anderson, I'm just as confused as you. They told me I was being folded in as well." He explained as he made his way for the exit, and Ash followed.

They left the club and made their way for closest elevator. Ash hesitated before entering it. These things took forever, and the periodic news reports and annoying music that filled the speakers didn't make these rides go by any faster. She stood next to the Lieutenant, but kept a comfortable distance and her eyes straight ahead.

Something was just a bit off about the encounter. She would've noticed an Alliance LT in the club instantly, but the man just appeared behind her like a shadow.

His cool voice broke the din of elevator music. "So… You are _the _Ashley Williams, am I correct?"

Here it goes again. She hated explaining this to every commanding officer, but it became routine. Being a Williams around brass made people nervous.

"Yes." She huffed, making her annoyance quietly apparent, but not disrespectful. "The same Ashley Williams who is the granddaughter of General Williams, the same, and only, Alliance commander to surrender to alien forces."

Crowe raised a brow and said, "No, no. I don't care about that. I don't judge on what ancestors did. What I meant, are you the same Chief Williams who served with Commander Shepard two years ago?"

Dozens of memories flooded Ashley's brain. Every time she tried to dam up those old recollections, all someone had to do was mention Shepard's name, and they'd come right back. Geth killing hundreds on Eden Prime, Saren's assassins trying to pick off Shepard outside Chora's Den, Kaidan Alenko dieing on Virmire, Ilos, and finally the fall of the indoctrinated Spectre.

"Yeah… that's me." Ash confirmed, her eyes falling to her feet. "Why, sir?"

Crowe shrugged with a tiny smile. "No reason, just getting a few things straight. Heard some rumors. Doubt they're true, no need to ask."

Looking at her officer, Ash questioned, "What rumors, sir?"

Still grinning, the Lieutenant cleared his throat. "This is personal stuff that I heard, so you don't have to talk about if you don't want to. Could be too prodding."

"It's alright, sir. I dug a bullet out of me once, so I think I can handle a few questions, 'cuz nothing says 'prodding' like a high-caliber slug to the thigh." She assured with a nod.

"Alright. I only want to know one thing, Chief. There have been reports of Shepard having rather personal relationships with his crewmates." His grin disappeared, his tone became deadly serious. "Did you have a relationship with him, Chief?"

Ashley grinned on the inside. Her turn to screw with people. "My, my, Lieutenant. To have any romantic involvement with an executive officer would be against a number of regulations, including fraternization. The consequences of such actions would most likely include-"

"How come whenever people pull that up, it usually means a big fat 'screw you,' albeit a respectful one?" Crowe interrupted sarcastically.

"Because sometimes a big fat screw you is needed."

Crowe shot Ashley a harsh glare, and the Chief straightened up again.

"Because sometimes a big fat screw you is needed, _sir_."

* * *

"They're here, Councilor." Donnel Udina informed Anderson with barely contained aggression.

It should have been _him_. He should have become Councilor, not Anderson. Udina busted his ass for years working as mankind's ambassador, dealing with the prejudice from the Council and the other races, only to have a space jockey from the Alliance take control of the first ever human Council position.

It left the man a little bitter, to say the least.

"Thank you, Udina. Can you let them in?" Councilor Anderson politely requested as he stared out over the Presidium. The former captain looked over the area with little emotion. As pretty as the sight was, there was too much on his mind to let himself enjoy much of anything recently. Reapers, constant attacks on remote human colonies, and the constant nagging from the Council to look at the bigger picture.

The bigger picture was a looming Reaper invasion, but they refused to see it. Better to sweep things under the rug and forget about it, right?

Swishing apart, the eggshell white doors parted to reveal Crowe and Ashley standing there. Anderson immediately ushered them in and told them to take seats. With that, Anderson looked over at Udina, who was sulking in a corner.

"Ambassador, I wish to discuss this matter with these two in private, if that's alright."

Udina shot Anderson a look that could melt titanium, but he left the room silently, shoulders low. Sighing, the former captain took a seat behind his desk, facing the Chief and Lieutenant. He looked them over for a moment before finally speaking with them directly. "I won't bore you two with any of the preliminary reports. I'm going to brass tacks here."

He leaned forward and placed his hands on his desk as he bluntly explained, "Commander Shepard, as you know by now, is alive. You especially, Williams. You saw him yourself on Horizon."

"Aye, sir. I did." Ash confirmed, still wondering why she was called up here with Lieutenant Crowe in the first place.

"Sources tell us that whatever mission Cerberus made Shepard go on was completed, and Shepard hastily left Cerberus with little remorse."

"You mean…you mean Shepard isn't working with Cerberus?" Ash questioned as soon as Anderson stopped talking. When she first heard that Shepard was working with Cerberus, it enraged her. How could the hero of the Citadel who always preached bridging the racial gaps between species work for such a pro-human group like Cerberus? The Operations Chief was wary of aliens herself, but she didn't hate them and certainly would never align with groups like Terra Firma or Cerberus, who took their view to extremes.

Crowe butted in, "Only reason he worked with Cerberus, is because colonies were getting swept up left and right."

"This is all well and good, Councilor." Ashley hissed, tired of the repeated explanations that she got. "I was in the middle of enjoying what little off-duty time I had when the LT here said you needed me. Apparently I'm getting folded into a unit of some sort?"

Anderson nodded slowly, listening to each word. Ashley had always been headstrong and impatient, so dancing around with words didn't sit well with her. "Our spies were following Shepard shortly after he broke ties with Cerberus. He's been attacked by unknown forces and is being held captive. We don't know where. So the Alliance is forming a team of some of the best to help go after him."

Anderson's dark eyes found Lieutenant Crowe, "We've chosen Crowe to lead, his technical scores are exemplary, his combat skills within the simulators are outstanding, and his leadership is unquestionably superb."

_Simulators? _Ashley didn't like the sound of that.

He then turned to Ash, "You're second in command, not only due to your survival and leadership abilities, but because you know Shepard. And you're one of the few that know him that the Navy can trust."

The former captain stood and looked over the two soldiers. "This comes from Fleet Admiral Deville himself. The very top. He wants Shepard back just as much as we all have for the past two years." Anderson hesitated for a moment, his eyes falling to the floor for a brief moment. "Your objective will be to remain at a constant state of readiness. You will be shadowing Shepard's current crew until they manage to find his location, and if need be, intervene accordingly if things go south."

Ash was about to outright unload on Anderson, but Crowe beat her to the punch.

"So you want us playing like backups? This isn't little league, Councilor! We're soldiers, sir. Not benchwarmers. The Alliance is already low on recruitment numbers, we can't be wasting-"

"I know the numbers, damn it!" Anderson shouted, his eyes filled with fire that wasn't there before. "If I was in charge, I would have you go after the Commander already, but I can't! Alliance Command wants it done their way, and I'm just here to pass on their message." Anderson spoke his next few words dismissingly. "You will report to the cruiser SSV _Chicago_. You're team's already aboard. Dismissed."

* * *

The shuttle ride to the _Chicago _uneventful and quiet. Ashley stared out the window and looked out into the divine purple nebula that surrounded the Citadel. Dozens of warships floated through the void of space, armed to the teeth. Most of them were Alliance vessels, as the asari and turian fleets were still recovering from the geth attack.

But her mind kept going back to the vague mission they were being sent on. It was a blind run, the way she saw it. So far, all they knew is that Shepard had been captured and that was it. No intel, no readings on the forces they would be facing, nothing. Just: 'Here's your team, now go out there and get 'em when we say so.'

But at least knowing Shepard was alive this time meant the world and then some to Ash. Thinking he was dead for two years killed her inside, but at least now she knew there was something she could do about it. Funny thing was, is that she wasn't worried about him being held captive. If Shepard could cheat God himself and come back from the grave, then being a prisoner was nothing.

She knew her skipper would pull through. And hopefully she would be there when he did.

* * *

**SSV **_**Chicago**_**.**

Captain Heinrich Drescher personally went down to the docking bay to greet his new arrivals. Drescher was a well-respected officer, though he did have a penchant to pull non-regulation maneuvers with the vessels he helmed. To his crew, that just meant he didn't mind taking a few risks when it came down to it.

After meeting with the Captain, Ash and Crowe made their way for the crew quarters on deck eight, which had been assigned to the team they were meant to lead. Just five people, not counting the Chief or LT. These better be the best damn troops in the universe.

Both Chief and Lieutenant marched down the corridors of the _Chicago _towards the crew quarters at a brisk pace, dodging servicemen and techies alike. Soon, the door for the designated room approached and both found themselves entering quickly.

Five people, three men and two women, were sitting in small cots, men separated from women, of course. They wore standard-issue off-duty blues, which were basically a skin tight blue t-shirt and matching paints. Ashley shouted at the top of her lungs, "Room! Ten-hut!"

The five soldiers stood in unison, coming to attention and shooting off crisp salutes. Crowe let them back at ease as he introduced himself. "You all have been briefed I'm sure, but let's reiterate. The name's First Lieutenant Randy Crowe. It's either 'sir' or 'Lieutenant' on a mission, Randy when off. Keep yourselves well-fed, in good shape, and battle ready, and we won't have problems." He motioned over to Ash, standing next to him, "This is Operations Chief Ashley Williams. Second in command. Haven't known her for long, but I know she doesn't take crap."

Ash grinned, "Just call me Ash. Now," She pointed to the large, black man to the far left. "Name, rank, and role."

He stood back up again, and he easily towered over Ashley. He was at least six foot six, maybe taller. "Martin Davis, Private First Class, rifleman and heavy weaponry. People call me Tank, ma'am."

She could see why. This guy's fists were about as thick as lunchboxes, his well-toned form probably solid as steel. Ash turned to the next soldier, who was already standing. He nodded his head and held out a partially-closed hand as if he was tipping the brim of a cowboy hat.

"Howdy. Doug Martz, Corporal, machinegunner." He stated with a toothy grin, his light Texan accent laced his voice. He was shorter than Tank, but not by much.

"What unit did you come from, marine?" Ashley asked with a grin, already liking this guy.

"412th, Chief. Red Raiders. Me and Tank here are from the same chalk."

Good to know. If this team already had a bit of chemistry, it would be easier to work with them. The next soldier was female, lightly tanned skin, jet black hair. She was petite, but the scars around her neck showed she could handle herself. "Kendra O'Malley, Gunnery Chief, when I'm not keeping these turds in line, I can multi-task pretty well. Shoot, repair, blow up, you name it."

Next guy was Private First Class Gordon Alvarez. A techie, he claimed he could hack any system, human or otherwise. It's probably what landed him in the Alliance, that or the idea of crime didn't appeal to him.

The final team member was definitely… unique. Her name was Jane Hartford, Corporal. Where long, brunette hair once was had been shaved down to a short mohawk, she claimed it was easier to maintain than a long hairdo, and it was a tactical advantage as well. Without long hair, no one could grab it. She was the team's sniper, and as O'Malley personally said, Hartford was the best damn sniper in the Alliance Marines.

Ashley looked over the soldiers in front of her, and she was impressed. They all seemed capable, with combat records to back it up.

Crowe shook each of their hands and then began to explain their deceptively simple mission.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Our job is a simple one. Get Commander Shepard back."

* * *

Peace.


	5. The Head of the Snake

The Head of the Snake

* * *

**Three Days after Shepard's Arrival at the Last Dawn Penitentiary.**

The guards were on edge. It was obvious. You could see it in their eyes, in their gait as they walked, and their nervous trigger fingers. Whoever Farrax had spoken to when the Commander first awoke had the turian captain spooked, and it was rubbing off on his guards.

Both Zaael and Carrick warned the new prisoner to not bother any of them, unless he wanted to incite a beating.

And that was what pissed Shepard off the most. Not being able to fight back. Normally, he could respond with his own fists or guns, but it didn't work like that in prison. You did what you were told, or suffer the consequences.

Last night, before lights out, a guard tried to force Shepard to do some odd little errand for him. When he declined, two other guards came out of nowhere and they all jumped him. His jaw was still sore.

But with the help of Zaael and Carrick, they set up a meeting with the so-called leaders within the prison. First was Halach, the turian, who was an ex-officer in the Hierarchy. He was arrested for war crimes that included the mass murder of an entire colony's population, but he managed to escape and went underground, until the Talons found him however.

Next was the krogan, Zarr, an alien who spent the first two hundred years or so of his life on Tuchanka killing for his clan before he found no more enjoyment in it. He quickly left and became a criminal mastermind, unexpected for a krogan, to say the least. His several 'businesses' included the buying and selling of red sand, prostitution, extortion, and the illicit information trade.

As he was building his tiny empire on various backwater colonies within the Terminus Systems, Zarr wanted to go bigger. He raided several turian military patrols, even capturing a cruiser. But the Talons came upon him like rain in a storm, overwhelming Zarr's men, and dragging the leader away to prison.

Zaael told Shepard that the salarian leader, Urrin, was being unreasonable. He said escape was not even possible, and he wanted no part. The salarian managed to turn most of the other members of his species within the compound against the idea as well, so they weren't an option.

The final top dog was a batarian by the name of Lankos, who was just a plain, mean bastard. The alien went on a murder streak that started with two C-Sec officers in a back alley and just took off after that. Racking up a tremendous body count within four years, Lankos was finally brought down. When questioned why he had killed so many, he simply replied with a smirk, 'I was just having a little fun.'

It made Shepard sick to work with the likes of these three, but if that's what it took to get out, then he would stomach it. But he just wished his crew would get here already, he knew at least they would be looking for him.

Leaving his cell, the Commander made his way towards the western mess hall, where everyone agreed to meet. Moving down the stairs, Shepard noticed the guards around him were armed with new guns, mostly assault rifles. Farrax had outfitted his men with new gear to go along with their new paranoia.

But suspicious guards wouldn't be a problem, since their plan was relatively simple. Get out of the prison, by any means. Zaael was doing his best to find a way past the security systems, which included the automated turrets and the air pumps. Carrick would do his best at securing rebreathers and weaponry. Whatever the other leaders brought to the table better be worth it. They were against massive odds here.

Keelan was waiting for Shepard at the bottom of the stairs, who quickly waved him over.

"You ready?" The quarian asked with a certain eagerness as he clenched his fingers, ready for anything.

"As ready as I can be." Shepard shrugged his shoulders. "This is going to be tough. I mean, I'm working with total strangers who are accomplished killers."

"Shouldn't be too difficult for a man like you," Keelan said as the pair passed through the scanners and headed for the mess hall. "Zaael told me you are a great leader on the outside. If anyone could do it, it's probably you."

Shepard grinned, "What else has our friend filled you in on?"

It was Keelan's turn to shrug, "That's about it. But if Zaael said it, it's true."

"You put an awful lot of trust into him, don't you?"

Keelan's tone changed, his voice became quite low. "He's one of the few in here I can really trust, besides Tarlan and Ferrin, of course. They're practically brothers to me. But Zaael… he saved my life, back when the escape attempt happened. The guards dragged me out of my cell, beating the shit out of me before forcing me to my knees. I could feel the barrel of the pistol at the back of my head, and I waited for the shot." The explosives-loving prisoner shuddered, "I prayed to the ancestors for the first time in a long time… hoping my death would be painless."

Shepard felt for the burly quarian. During boot camp, a fellow marine couldn't handle the pressure. The soldier took a pistol off the drill instructor and shot him, before taking two fellow men hostage. Shepard went in to negotiate and when the crazed man put the barrel of his gun against the then-recruit's forehead, Shepard seriously felt it would be the end. But his gun jammed, a once in a lifetime occurrence, and Shepard broke his wrist in response.

"But," Keelan continued, his tone lighter, "guess who saved me? Zaael himself. He tackled the first one, and I took down the second one." He began to chuckle. "We spent a damned week in the pits. _Keelah, _it was worth it though."

"What exactly are the pits?" Shepard asked. He always kept hearing the guards threatening prisoners with a trip to the pits, but he never got an explanation for what it exactly was.

Smirking, Keelan replied, "Think of the dirtiest, most godforsaken place in the world. Now imagine putting murderers, terrorists, and a few psychos in said dirty place. Even my suit's olfactory filters can't block out the stench. But we were lucky though, at least we didn't end up in a room with a horny krogan."

"A horny krogan?" Shepard replied, trying to muffle a surprised chuckle.

"It's not like that, human. No, a better word would be 'irate,' but you don't get much of a vocabulary in prison. Those krogan who've been down in the pits for awhile, go a little nuts. Get the blood rage." Keelan warned. "I've seen what a normal krogan can do to others, but one with the blood rage going on? Ain't pretty."

They entered the next room and an odor of rancid food washed over the two. Yep, definitely the mess hall.

Shepard could make out Carrick and Zaael at the far end and immediately made his way there, Keelan in tow. An open seat was next to Carrick, and Shepard took it. Across from him, was the krogan Zarr. Old, dark scars and burns covered both sides of his head, but his eyes flared a bright red, almost burning through whoever they fell upon.

To his left was Halach, whose posture was nothing of a prisoner's, but an esteemed general. He sat tall and proud, like any officer should. No scarring of any kind tainted his skin, just his red and white colonial tattoos on his face. When he spoke, his tone was precise and final. "Hello, Shepard."

Zarr just grunted, not caring about some human.

Carrick spoke up about the empty seat next to Halach. "Where's Lankos? He should've been here by now."

Coughing to clear his throat, Zaael nervously craned his head, scanning for guards, "It doesn't matter. We need to get this over with before the guards take notice."

"That's already been taken care of." Zarr grumbled with a barely-visible grin as he nodded over to far end of the hall. Two krogan started screaming at each other, before one headbutted the other. The next thing Shepard knew, both aliens were assaulting each other, but their punches weren't as harsh as they should've been. Turning back to Zarr, the human found a grin on the krogan's face.

He set up a fake fight. Smart. Didn't get his men hurt, at least not by each other. The half dozen guards rushing for the scuffle would be a different story.

Zaael turned and placed a tiny object on the table. A flat holo-map covered the slab of metal, a low orange glow radiated from the schematics. "These are the known routes to the security stations throughout the whole complex." The quarian explained as every other man watched closely. He prodded one of his three, long fingers at a certain area. "This is the closest station to any of our cells. Just off the west wing. If we want to survive, we'll need to get in there. These various stations have local control over the wing's defenses, only place that has control over every area is Farrax's office, but if we get in I can lock the bastard out."

Halach spoke up, his voice rock solid, "How do we get in, though? It's going to be locked and guarded."

Zaael smirked under his helmet. "You're right. But they don't guard the walls." He prodded his thumb towards the closest wall. Zarr gave him a glare that questioned the quarian's sanity. Still grinning, he explained, "What I mean is, there are multiple conduits and information lines that run through the walls. All you'd have to do is pop open a panel and find the right conduit. With the guards distracted, one man could sneak in and take control."

"What about people inside? A security room like that has got to be guarded." Halach pressed, not willing to risk his men for a possibly fruitless attempt. Smart man.

"There should be only two men inside the station at any one time. I've seen it myself. I'll be able to kill anyone inside within seconds." Zaael stated coldly. He wanted to leave this hellhole desperately, and to get his knife back from the bastard Farrax.

Carrick looked up from the map to see a tall batarian marching towards them, a scowl splayed over the human's lips. "Ladies and gentleman, let me introduce you to the most dangerous biotic in Last Dawn. Lankos himself."

The dark-skinned alien growled, baring brown teeth. "Shut up, Carrick. I know I'm late. Damn guards decided to pat me down three times before I could leave my cell. Shoulda just slapped their asses with a singularity."

"Inhibitors would fry your brain to hell." Zarr replied gruffly as he stuck his stubby feet on the table, distorting the holo-map.

Lankos chuckled and shook his head. "Please. Only thing those so-called inhibitors do is give me headaches. Hell, probably make me flare higher anyways." His four black eyes found Shepard, "I hear you're the one who wants to get out. Me and my boys can help."

The former Alliance soldier nodded and told the batarian to take a seat.

Carrick looked over the map and shoved Zarr's feet away and pointed to a room with a grin. It was just outside the mess hall. "This is one poorly designed prison. The armory is literally just down the hall."

"What would be in there, besides the guns I mean?" Keelan asked eagerly, the anticipation apparent in his stance.

The human's cheeks wrinkled in a smile. "Body armor and ammo for a whole platoon, rebreathers, and of course explosives."

"_Sweeeeeet._" He crooned, his fingers interlocked with each other, most likely out of the thought of destruction. With a new fervor in his voice, Keelan eagerly asked the Commander, "Alright, Shepard. What's the plan?"

Shepard looked over the group of prisoners before him. All looked capable, and out of all of them Zaael, Keelan, and Carrick were the ones he trusted the most. The others seemed loyal only to get out, which was fine for the moment, but it would most likely be a problem later on. Not like he had much choice, though. He needed everyone working together, however briefly.

Standing up, Shepard dragged a finger on the holo-map, dragging the image to the right. Dozens of hallways and cells revealed themselves as he began to explain. Carrick and Zaael would take a group of their men and go for the armory and security station respectively. Zarr's men would spread out to several areas of the prison and start enough of a commotion to lead the guards away so the others could get in position.

After that, everyone was to take down every guard in the west wing and secure it. Once that objective was completed, they would head east through the prison towards the shuttle bay, where five shuttles were docked in the hangers at any one point in time. More than enough to get the leaders and a handful of their people out.

But this wasn't a charity run. Shepard wasn't here to free criminals, and he didn't plan on letting this be a prison-wide attempt. He just wanted to get out and figure out why Farrax had dragged him in here, and whoever it was that hired the turian captain to attack the _Normandy _in the first place.

"SHEPARD!" A voice boomed, and every one in the hall turned towards the source, even the guards dealing with the 'fighting' krogan. Zaael slapped a hand on the holo-map, and it immediately went dark. Lieutenant Antalus stood by the door, leaning heavily on one foot. His gray, avian eyes found the Commander. "Warden Tordun wants you, human!"

Turning to his comrades, Shepard nodded slowly. Each nodded back as he turned and walked towards the waiting Lieutenant.

"Follow me." Antalus grunted as he turned and limped down the hall. When Shepard took notice with a smile, the Talon growled, "_Don't _ask. Less you wanna start limpin' too. And I'd be happy to provide."

The human noticed Antalus' clawed finger wrapped around the grip of his pistol, so Shepard decided to stay quiet, but the smile didn't leave.

Two guards tailed behind Shepard as he was led up a series of stairs, down hallways that led far from the cellblocks and finally to an elevator, where two more soldiers guarded the entrance. Antalus barked at them to move as he shoved by, placing his eye next to a retinal scanner. A low tone sounded off before a cool voice announced, _"Welcome Lieutenant Antalus. What is the floor you wish to go to?"_

"Warden's Office. Top floor." He said quickly, grabbing Shepard by the collar and dragging him inside the spacious elevator. The back wall was clear glass, while the other two were solid metal. Leaning against the steel, Antalus sighed as pressure was relieved from his wounded foot.

Shepard ignored the alien as he walked towards the window. He could see the whole prison laid out in front of him. The facility was massive… there must've been hundred upon hundreds of cell blocks. Thousands of prisoners. That meant thousands of guards.

And the planet itself was nothing more than an orange desert that stretched out to the horizon and beyond. The alien sun beat down on the prison, waves of heat distorted the air. Shepard shuddered as he realized the only way out was the shuttles. If they tried to escape on foot, the only thing they'd find would be desert. Hot sand for miles.

Halting, the elevator's speakers resonated with the same voice as before, _"Top floor. Have a pleasant day, Lieutenant."_

Farrax's lapdog waved his hand and limped out as soon as the doors parted, the human prisoner in tow. He trudged through the first door into a finely-designed office. The walls were lined with several paintings and old weaponry, ranging from swords to ancient guns. Plaques covered the far wall, ranging military commendations to civilian appraisals.

A large turian in bright red armor sat behind a desk, a disassembled shotgun laid out before him. A grease-stained cloth sat near the short barrel, an empty carton of thermal clips in the corner of the desk. The man's hands were polishing the stock of the weapon with reverent passion. Slow, methodic wipes eliminated any existing grime, returning the gun to its once-clean state.

His gray eyes never left the stock as he grunted, "Shepard, sit. Antalus, leave."

The Lieutenant's mandibles flared in obvious annoyance, but he respectfully saluted and turned, shooting the human a glare as he limped out. The Warden waited for the door to shut and then another two minutes before he spoke, still cleaning his weapon.

Placing the stock in a free spot on his desk, he cleared his throat. "Commander Shepard. Forgive me for not being able to meet you sooner…" He sighed and shook his head as he eyes locked onto Shepard's. "…Captain Farrax, has been acting…_erratic, _lately. He's tightened security, I'm sure you've noticed."

Shepard nodded as Warden Tordun continued. "I _don't _like it. Not one bit." He wiped his greasy hands with a spare rag, stood up, and offered a now-clean hand to Shepard. "Warden Halan Tordun, pleased to meet you Commander."

He didn't entirely trust the turian in front of him as they shook hands with a firm grip, but he seemed oddly genuine. "You're probably the friendliest one in this place, Warden."

A ghost of a smile appeared on the Warden's face, but it went back to stone again. "I doubt that very much, Commander. But thank you." His voice was deadpan.

Sitting back down, Tordun reached for a holo-pad inside a drawer and pulled it out. Twenty seconds passed, and the warden in front of the Spectre said nothing, his eyes scanning the panels of information slowly.

"When I was first dragged here," Shepard started out, at least wanting to know why the warden of all people wanted him, "I woke up in cell. No explanation for anything. I haven't been charged with anything, as far as I know, Warden. So doesn't that mean I'm being falsely imprisoned?"

Tordun didn't respond at first, his eyes still locked in on the pad in front of his face. "Farrax sent me this yesterday, your so-called 'charges' are here. Releasing dangerous criminals: One-thousand and seventy-two different counts."

Memories of the Purgatory Prison Ship came to mind. Well, technically he did free prisoners to get to Jack, and he was sure a few other inmates must've escaped.

"Two-hundred and four counts of assault, eight-hundred and nine counts of murder."

Too many things could've been that. Mercenaries, pirates, Cerberus soldiers. Shepard had a feeling these charges were bullshit.

It seemed Tordun agreed as he smacked the holo-pad back into the drawer and gave an audible moan of annoyance. "This is complete crap. You're a hero, Shepard. Killed a rouge Spectre who murdered hundreds and saved the Council. You belong on a ship, commanding fleets and conquering worlds, not rotting in a prison."

"Well, someone doesn't agree with your assessment, then."

"I didn't vote to bring you here, trust me on that. Farrax was hired from what I understand."

Shepard leaned forward in his seat, new information unraveling before him, "Someone hired him to go after me and bring me here?"

"From what I understand, yeah." He nodded. "But dat's 'bout it. Don't know nothing else. All I know is that whoever Farrax's been talking to, has got him scared shitless." His hands immediately went down to the disassembled shotgun, almost mechanically. His fingers wrapped around the parts and began to put it all back together with an amazing speed. Not seven seconds later, a fully-operational shotgun sat on Tordun's desk.

Both hands resting on the weapon, Tordun exhaled. He'd been holding his breath the whole time.

"Well, Shepard. I just called you up to let you know what your 'formal charges' are." His words sounded bitter as they left his mouth. "I don't like it when others run my prison." He hissed, his anger towards Farrax obvious.

He picked up the weapon and pumped it, the loud clack of the shotgun reverberated in the silent office.

"Dismissed, Shepard."

* * *

**Exodus Cluster, Utopia System. SSV **_**Chicago **_**in outer orbit of the planet Eden Prime. Three days after Chief Williams and Lieutenant Crowe received their new mission.**

Ashley didn't want to come back here, if there were two places in the whole galaxy she would outright refuse to go to, it would be boot camp and Eden Prime. She saw here whole unit, the 212th, wiped out by the geth. Images of people forced onto dragon's teeth and impaled, both marines and colonists flooded her mind. She was forced to shoot what was left of them as they became husks.

Grim stories of Vlad the Impaler she studied in her high school history classes couldn't compare to the sight of a real impalement.

Nightmares came from time to time, and everyone was the same. Flashlight heads all around her and her squad. Red blood smacks her in the face. A marine falls, a hole in his head. She shoots back, but to no avail as the machines swarm. More soldiers fell, and then a hellfire of bullets cut into everything.

Whenever she awoke, sweat drenched her and her hands were usually shaking.

And now they were going back, and she didn't now why. Looking up from her holo-pad, she saw Doug and Jane playing poker with each other. Tank was in the game, but he went broke a couple hands back, forcing him to retire. Gordon was napping in his bunk, where he had been for over three hours now. Lieutenant Crowe, or Randy, as he wanted everyone to refer him as while off-duty, was in his private room.

Yep, he gets his own private room down the hall, while the rest of them sleep in shared rooms within the crew quarters, segregated by gender of course.

Ash had no idea where Gunnery Chief O'Malley was, but for some reason she liked her. Everyone called O'Malley 'Guns,' probably due to her rank, but the name fit well for her. After some digging through several files, Ashley found out that Guns had an IQ twenty-five points north of what was considered genius and she was fluent in several languages. That was surprising since most people nowadays relied on translators. With dozens of alien races out there, did mankind really expect them to all learn English or something?

Guns was also a trained medic, along with showing _biotic _abilities. She trained on Gagarin Station as a child for a couple years, or Jump Zero as it's more commonly referred to. Ash gave an impressed whistle and rubbed her forehead slowly, this woman should've been an officer, not enlisted. And how did she get the scars around her neck, anyways?

Flipping through more of the files, she found some stuff on Doug and Tank. Both were a part of the 412th, a highly-touted infantry division called the Red Raiders, usually sent in on missions ranging from full-scale warfare to covert black-ops. And these two had exemplary combat records, so no wonder Command picked them.

There was nothing overly outstanding about Gordon Alvarez, but the years he spent in the engineering and technology departments made him extremely useful. As he stated before, Gordon could hack almost any computer system, human or otherwise.

Then came Corporal Jane Hartford's file. The sniper was never in one particular unit for very long, always getting transferred by a higher-up's request. She was never assigned a spotter to assist her, and if she was, Jane left him or her behind as she went about her business. Besides her behavior, her kill record stood out the most.

_Confirmed kills: 201_

_Confirmed headshots: 201_

_Number of shots fired: 201_

Jane was a machine when it came to shooting, Ashley wouldn't have believed this report if not just yesterday she took everyone to the _Chicago's _firing range just to make sure their skills were in top shape. Everyone impressed, but the sniper was something else entirely. Firing at paper targets at a thousand yards downrange, she hit the same spot ten out of ten times, right in center of the cranium.

"What are you reading, ma'am?"

Ash looked up to see Tank towering over her. She scooted over on the small couch and let him take a seat as she nonchalantly showed the large marine the holo-pad, "Just some reports on you guys. Gotta find a way to get to know you all."

Tank laughed a little, "Could've just tried talkin' to us, ma'am. I wouldn't have minded."

Before the Operations Chief could continue, Randy appeared from his room, his lips set in a grim frown. He called everyone around and looked over each squad mate. Jane and Doug dropped their cards, Guns walked in the doorway, and Tank smacked Gordon on the head, waking the slumbering techie.

Randy waited until everyone was near. "We're over Eden Prime for a reason. An Alliance garrison groundside is under attack from a local militia."

He paused and waited for questions. Doug spoke up first.

"Local militia? Either we have a bunch of greenhorns down there, or these guys are like asari commandos or something. Why are we helping? Our job is to find Commander Shepard."

"Correct." Randy nodded. "But our boys down there need our immediate attention. These militias were trained right by our forces after the geth attack two years ago, so these militiamen know our tactics and how to use them against us."

Doug's Texan voice filled the air again, "Why are they coming after Alliance troops if _we _trained them? Don't bite that hand that feeds ya, right?"

"Intel says they've gone rogue, acting as thugs for months on end now. Racketeering the local farmers for 'protection funds.' The garrison's job for the past month was finding and arresting any militia members, but shit hit the fan last night." Randy brought up a holo-map with his omni-tool. A red dot marked a large area of fields, about a kilometer outside of a small town. "Fighting has started in the town of Ezra, and so far our boys have taken bad casualties. These bastards are dug in like a tick, right in the center of town. Our LZ are these farmlands right here to the west."

Ashley took in the information and processed it quickly. A ball of ice formed in the pit of her gut as Randy continued, "We're being sent in with a force of three hundred other marines, but we have our own objective. While we support local forces whenever we can, we go for the head of the snake."

He tapped on his omni-tool, and a 3D representation of a bombed-out building replaced the map. "The militia's leader is holed-up in what used to be the town's parliamentary center, now a target of mortar fire. Most of our marines will be hitting other strategic points throughout the town, so we won't have a whole platoon backing us up or anything."

The image of the building changed, showing a male's face. His hair had that militaristic crew cut, but he just looked…_dirty_. A sick smile splayed at one corner of his mouth.

"His name is Kurran Ulyat." The Lieutenant introduced, his voice still somber. "Retired C-Sec, twenty years with the force. Took up the job of handling Eden Prime's state-sponsored militia two days after the geth attack led by Saren. He ran a clean operation with the Alliance garrison, but things turned sour and they went off the grid. You know the rest."

Randy deactivated his omni-tool and ordered his soldiers, "Get locked and loaded, we're making a hot drop in forty-five."

* * *

**Vulcan Dropship, SSV **_**Chicago's **_**Dropbay.**

Her white armor was spotless and fit her like a glove, but was heavy from the ceramic plating that covered her most vital areas. Her rifle was neatly folded and magnetically locked into place within a groove on her back, right next to her sniper rifle and just above the shotgun, which rested in the small of Ash's back. Trying to reach for her pistol, the straps that wrapped her across her chest prevented her from much movement.

Grabbing the weapon, she checked it on last time and slapped back onto the side of her thigh. Ashley was set, she finally convinced herself. Nothing more she could do now but enjoy the ride that would soon come.

The Vulcan's thirty seats within the hold were filled with bodies, mostly marines from the _Chicago_.

Doug sat next to Ash, donning black armor and a matching helmet. A diamond patch was painted on the left pauldron of his armor, showing two crossed swords and the 412 right underneath. His light machinegun, a blood red M-76 Revenant, sat in his lap, fully loaded. He gave the Chief a confident nod and grin.

Directly across from Ash, sat Tank, the patch on his shoulder as well. His armor and helmet were black like Doug's, the visor on his a bright orange. A gash across the crown of the headpiece incited a surprised glare from the Chief.

Tank grinned, "Took a glancing shot from a rifle round four months back, ma'am. Took it to a guy in an armory. He said the helmet would be alright, as long as I don't stick my head out again."

Doug chuckled and Ashley shook her head, a grin creasing her lips.

The radio in Ash's helmet crackled to life, as she heard the various Vulcan pilots converse with each other.

"_Sage Lead to all droppers, we are green for the plunge on my mark."_

"_Copy, Sage Lead. What are the conditions planetside?"_

"_Uh… hold on. There we go. Skies are overcast, temperature in the low sixties, chance of rain high. Nothing that'll hinder the jump, we're still green. Anti-aircraft fire unlikely."_

"_Aww, didn't want to get my baby wet today." _One pilot jokingly groaned. _"At least we won't get shot at this time."_

The hull reverberated, signaling the Vulcan was being locked into the drop tube, where the ship would be launched from the cruiser and sent through Eden Prime's orbit at blazingly high speeds. Nine other dropships were doing the same thing.

The lead pilot reported calmly, his voice icy, _"We are locked in and ready to drop. Repeat, Sage Team is ready to drop."_

Captain Drescher's voice filled their ears, _"Godspeed Sage Lead. Give those militia boys hell, marines." _

"Oorah!" Doug shouted with a grin, and every other soldier in their seats returned the battle cry, including Ashley.

"OORAH!"

Her stomach jumped to her throat as the magnetic moorings released and the thrusters on the Vulcan flared. She couldn't see outside the ship, but if she could, the Chief would probably see the horizon of Eden Prime against the black, inky void of space.

Pilot-to-pilot banter continued, _"Clean shoot. All ten birds out the barrel and into the pipe." _He paused as he spoke directly to the marines jokingly, _"Ladies and gentlemen, we are breaching the mesosphere right about now. Hang onto your teeth, and as always, do not empty the contents of your stomach onto __my__ floor. The Alliance Navy thanks you."_

The hull shook, jarring Ashley's head left and right. She craned her neck to look around, to find Tank and Doug sitting there, small grins on their faces.

They were _enjoying _this, plummeting miles through a planet's atmosphere, knowing a fight was waiting for them groundside.

Guns, with her shining green and black camouflaged armor, stood completely still, no emotion on her face.

Gordon wasn't taking the fall through the atmosphere well, his lips set in a seemingly permanent grimace. His hand reached into a compartment in the chest plate of his tan armor and retrieved a stick of gum, which he shoved in his mouth and began to chew it feverishly.

Jane had been in a different world it seemed, reacting to nothing. Her dark green armor was lighter than the rest of the marines, since her job as a sniper required quick relocation, not being able to withstand a shotgun blast. Eye black was smeared under each eye, along with three long lines of the stuff over her cheek, no helmet on her head to hide her face. Her rifle was currently in each of her hands, one squeezed the barrel as the other wrapped around the grip.

The temperature inside the bay started to rise, as the Vulcan's underbelly burned with the fires of atmospheric entry. Sweat formed at Ashley's forehead, but soon a pilot called out in her ear.

"_Entering the stratosphere, prepare for rapid deceleration."_

Retro-thrusters underneath the Vulcan lit ablaze, easing Ashley's stomach back into the right place. Gordon heaved, but refused to puke in front of his peers, but he did manage to utter under his breath, "Goddamn it."

The thrusters cut out, and the ship began to freefall again, this time the craft was even, not shaking and rumbling about like before. Crowe appeared from the cockpit door, using the frame to stabilize himself. He patted his chest with a closed fist and shouted, "Shields up!"

Everyone tapped the center of their chests, and their armor hummed as kinetic barriers came online, energizing a protective bubble around each marine. Then silence came as Crowe disappeared back inside the cockpit. Ten seconds passed, twenty, then thirty.

"_ETA to LZ is twenty seconds, get ready."_

Crowe's voice filled their ears again as the Vulcan's thrusters fired again, the craft easing onto Eden Prime's surface. _"Touchdown! Hit it, marines!"_

The seat belt on every soldier automatically released, and everyone stood and turned for the rear door of the Vulcan. A mechanical hum droned as the ramp lowered, and once it touched the soggy ground of Eden Prime, every soldier rushed out.

Ashley's helmet was met with the patter of rain, her boots with brown mud and clumped grass. She stared up into the gray, overcast skies, thunder boomed off in the distance. Wait. That wasn't thunder… Explosive shells, grenades, rockets. All echoing throughout the area into an orchestra gunfire that had the officers of the marine squads already shouting orders.

Nine other Vulcan's were dispensing their troops, all over the field. Luckily, each squad was well organized, an NCO was ready to take command of every thirty marines. Besides Crowe, there were only two other officers involved in the drop, all Lieutenants.

Reacting, Ashley called turned to the members of her squad and shouted, "Form up!"

Guns reverberated the order, and soon everyone converged. Crowe appeared and took the reigns, their path apparently set. He led them up a hill towards the east, closer to the roar of gunfire. Over the crest, revealed tall buildings with giant chunks missing from explosions. Smoke rose high into the sky, as if someone took a black paintbrush and smeared the air with it.

An overturned Mako APC was smoldering on the main street that led into the town, a rocket blast had ripped the front of the troop carrier in two.

Crowe turned and quickly gave out his orders, "Guns, Alvarez, Martz and Tank are with me. We'll head with second squad and meet up with the garrison's commander further into the city. Hartford, Williams, you two will head for that red building over there," he pointed a finger towards the one he was talking about, "and give us sniper fire. Move from building to building when needed, but keep in cover."

"Roger." Jane replied coldly and immediately sprinted down the hill and through the rain, the Operations Chief right behind her.

Ash's feet hit the slick concrete of the main road, a hand reaching for her assault rifle. The gunfire that once crackled in the distance became louder, her heart began to pump as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Jane moved to the first alleyway and pressed up against a backdoor to a small building, her finger pressing against the trigger of her rifle.

Cutting through this building and going out the front will lead to their designated building, right across the street.

Ashley slid against the wall, other side. The Chief looked at Jane, who was right next to the controls, and nodded. Her hand slapped against the panel, letting the door slide apart with silence.

Water dripped from Ash's rifle as she lifted it, barrel pointed into the dark room. She took a cautious step inside, Jane right behind, scanning the area with her own weapon. Empty, no signs of life anywhere. Ashley marched towards the front door and tapped a finger against the controls, only to have it not respond. Hearing a sharp whistle, Ash turned to find Jane pointing her rifle at her. The sniper nodded to the side and Ash moved.

The end of the barrel lit ablaze and sparks flew, the panel shattered into tiny shards. Groaning and resisting at first, the door swung open slowly to reveal more rain falling. Holes from grenades and other explosives riddle the street, filling up with rainwater and dirt.

Jane was the first out the door and back into the downpour, the building ahead of her. She disappeared inside the already open doorway. As Ash sprinted across the street, her radio buzzed in her ear. It was the Lieutenant's voice.

"_Friendlies comin' out. Hold your fire."_

He must've met up with the garrison's commander, otherwise he wouldn't have spammed the whole frequency like that.

Inside, Ash found Jane to her left, moving into an elevator. The sniper waited for the Chief and once she was in, pressed the button for the top floor. The ride up was quick, yet disconcertingly quiet. Jane hadn't said a thing to Ash, as if it seemed she really was a machine. Unpleasant memories of the geth filled the Chief's head.

Doors parting, Jane rushed for the north end of the building, running down hallways like a woman possessed.

Ash followed suit, knowing the Corporal was an expert in sniping. Sure, Ashley trained to snipe, but the patience it required was frustrating at times. She wasn't content with just waiting for an idiotic hostile to poke its head out. Quicker to just use her boomstick and blow the enemy to bits.

Turning into a large room where the north wall was once a pane of glass, was now shattered from the battle on the streets. Holo-pads and other miscellaneous objects littered the floor, but the pair of snipers pushed them aside as they went prone and crawled to the edge of room, where a three-hundred foot drop awaited them if they were careless.

Jane tapped the underside of her rifle, and a bipod extended. She dug the two prongs into the floor and attached the scope to her rifle.

Ash did the same, and with one eye shut, the other peered down the scope to reveal the battlefield below. What was once a park had been utterly changed to something alien. Where trees were, smoldering skeletons stood, blackened from explosives. Bodies littered the grass, Alliance, militia, …_civilian. _

A flash went across Ashley's mind.

_Two geth forcing a colonist onto a small, pedestal like contraption. One geth's metallic 'voice' clicked and screeched, and suddenly a spike exploded through the man's sternum. He was lifted feet into the air, where he died seconds later._

"Chief, lookie lookie." Jane hissed in a cold voice.

Ash snapped out of it and focused back on her scope. Her crosshairs came over a man in police-grade armor, and with a military-grade rifle in his hands. There were another two dozen of these guys, their armor ranging from all-encompassing to none at all. Definitely militia, definitely hostile. They moved together like an Alliance squad would, their officer leading, with everyone else following but evenly spaced out, a tactic used to prevent explosions from killing everyone in the group.

Her hand went to the transmit button on her radio.

* * *

Randy could see the Alliance soldier pressed against an overturned hovercraft, an unlit cigarette between his lips and his rifle by his side. Blood dribbled down the right side of his head from a large gash, no helmet to cover it up.

Pressing an ear to his headset, Randy spoke into it, even though he knew the soldier could see him. "Friendlies comin' out. Hold your fire."

The soldier held his thumb up and waved him over, giving him a 'keep your head down' motion as well. Following his advice, Randy and Guns moved in, the rest of his team holding back, keeping in cover behind the previous building. Sliding next to the wounded man, he spoke up, his voice shaky.

"Garrison Chief Don Marta. Glad to see a few friendly faces 'round here. Welcome to the town of Ezra."

"How bad have the casualties been, Marta?"

He sighed and removed the unlit cancer stick from his lips, "Two days ago, I had a full garrison of one-hundred and fifty. I'm down to seventy-six who are scattered all over this damn city. Three hours ago they ambushed us and took out my Mako and the crew inside. I lost eight not ten minutes ago to those goddamn automatic railguns."

"Railguns?"

Marta grunted in pain from his gash and continued, "Yeah. We kept pushing these militia bastards back towards this park, with their little command center just on the other side, and then VI-controlled railguns fired upon us." He halted, remorse in his eyes, "I lost eight boys out there, sir. Good, young kids."

"How accurate are they?" Guns asked as she carefully applied medi-gel to Marta's wounds.

"Very." He replied sullenly. Holding up his hand out of cover, with the cigarette in between the tips of his fingers. A shot cracked out like thunder, a hot flash washed over the three Alliance soldiers, a plume of dirt rose behind them. The cigarette's tip was now burning, and Marta took a long drag. Smoked puffed out his nose as he continued, "I've got a couple marines in the buildings on this side of the park, but we can't advance until those damn turrets are offline. Tried going around, but they've blocked off most of the roads with debris. We _have _to go through this park."

Randy turned back behind the building and stuck two fingers in his mouth, blowing hard. His whistle cut through the rain, causing Gordon to stick his helmeted head out. Randy pointed to the ground next to him, and the techie sprinted over, nearly tripping over the slick ground.

"We got VI railguns on the other side of the park," Randy explained as the rain smacked against them, "and I need you to take them out of commission."

"Aye sir. You want me to fry them completely, or turn them against the militia?"

"Destroy them." Randy replied immediately. "Can't take the risk, they might have a tech guy out there too."

Gordon nodded and brought out his omni-tool, the orange device lighting up and wrapping around his left arm, the fingers on his right hand immediately went to the screen. "Give me one minute."

"_Lieutenant? It's Chief Williams."_

Randy's fingers flew to the side of his helmet, "Go ahead."

"_Multiple hostiles moving towards your position, at least two dozen. Requesting permission to open fire."_

"Take 'em out."

* * *

Ashley looked up from her scope and nodded to Jane, who was still staring down her own.

"You take out the leader's shields. I'll take him down." The seasoned sniper instructed.

Bringing her eye back in, Ash guided her crosshair over the lead hostile, a tall man with police riot armor, the rifle he carried raised. He barked orders at his men, who were closing in on Randy's position behind the hovercraft. Holding her breath, Ashley felt the rifle kick back like a mule as the trigger was yanked back.

White shields flashed and failed, and another sniper rifle came to life. A plume of red exploded instantly from one side of the militiaman's head, and out the other. He flew to his side, dead.

The others reacted, taking cover behind dead trees while others tried to figure out where the shots came from.

"Next target," Jane called out. "Man in brown armor with a red stripe across it. Second in command."

"Target found." Ash replied, the coldness in her stomach returning. Killing was nothing new to her, and found little emotion when doing it. _That _usually hit her afterwards.

But right now, the Operations Chief saw targets. Not individuals with souls. Targets.

Shots from the snipers rang out, but two soldiers with rifles could only do so much. Militiamen still approached, their guns shouting back, bullets slamming into Randy's cover.

Marta grunted in annoyance and grabbed his rifle before rising into a crouch. He shouted to the building off to his right, "Marines! Open fire!"

Randy stood up and lifted his rifle over the undercarriage of the hovercraft and found his first target, a female soldier, about forty yards away. Pulling on the trigger, fire belched from the end of his weapon. Hot bullets slammed against her shield, a loud crack followed as her kinetic barrier fizzled out, and she fell to the ground. Turning his head back the Lieutenant shouted for his men.

"Tank, Martz! Suppressing fire!"

Something slammed hard into the center of his shield, the force of the blow sent him to his back. His head cracked against wet pavement and rain splattered against his face.

"Lieutenant!" Guns hollered as she saw her CO drop to the ground as gunshots popped overhead, now coming from Doug's machinegun. Grabbing Randy by his boots, Guns dragged him back into cover, seconds before a volley of rounds slammed into the concrete where he once occupied.

A red-hot, uniform hole had burnt straight through the hovercraft, right at chest level. That was the only thing that saved Randy from the railgun blowing a hole in his heart.

Gordon, still dealing with his omni-tool, shouted, "He stepped out when the railguns were still online!" A pause. "Is he dead?"

Grunting, Guns spat back as Randy groaned in pain, "No. Unless he steps out of cover again like that."

What was he thinking? Had this guy never been in combat before? You just don't stand out of cover and start shooting, especially when there was a freaking railgun waiting for you.

The breath in his lungs barely came, his chest feeling like he had just taken a hit from a rhino, square in his sternum. His ears rang and he tasted blood in his mouth, but he wasn't dead, which was always a good thing. Staggering behind cover, he smiled at Guns, who was holding onto his shoulder. He gasped for oxygen between parts of conversation, "Sorry…about that. Let's not try…that again."

Before the Gunnery Chief could respond, Gordon grinned and called out loudly as his eyes stayed glued to the tool on his arm, "Railguns offline! Self-destructing in five, four…"

Loud detonations rocked the ground, sending Gordon to his ass. White-hot shrapnel flew overhead. Picking up his shotgun, the Private shakily muttered, "Exploding now, I guess…"

Marta peeked around the corner and then vaulted to his feet, sprinting for a stone pillar that held up an overhang to the adjacent building. Cupping a hand around his mouth, he screamed at the marines inside, the cigarette still in his lips, "Let's go, everyone advances!"

A dozen soldiers poured from the buildings, either carrying rifles or shotguns, and a few with pistols left. Their armor was dirty and damaged from the fighting, some ran with the slightest of limps, kept in the fight from painkillers most likely.

A loud boom echoed throughout the sky as Randy and his team moved out, firing upon hostile militia out in the open. Shields fell from the closest group of enemies, and a grenade landed in the center of them. A flash of white, and they were gone. Vaporized into nothing.

There wasn't much cover in the flat, green park itself besides toppled trees, but with Doug keeping up the fire from his machinegun, most of the militia wisely stayed behind what they could.

This allowed the Alliance to advance quickly, with Randy and Guns keeping fire upon three militia soldiers. With controlled volleys, their shields flared a hot white, and then fizzled out. With one final burst, bullets from both rifles found their marks.

The final few militants realized this battle was lost, and quickly began to retreat, backs to their enemies. Marta hollered in anger and shot at the slowest one, cracking the soldier in the back of the skull. Blood splattered as the body fell limp. Feral rage consumed the Garrison Chief as his eyes found two wounded soldiers, both bleeding severely, trying to crawl away.

"No you don't, you fuckers!" Marta hissed as he threw his rifle to the ground and retrieved his pistol. He drove his boot into the back of the first one and aimed for the second, shooting the man in the back as he tried to inch away. Smoke trailing from the barrel, he pointed at the skull of the one under his boot and yanked back on the trigger, red sprayed across his body.

Popping out the old thermal clip, the Chief stumbled away and looked up.

His marines were frozen in front of him, their eyes watched as their commander had murdered helpless people. He looked away and holstered his pistol.

Randy saw their target at the far end of the park. The very same building from the briefing. Bombed out from mortars, its top floor and ceiling gone completely. Turning to the Garrison Chief, the Lieutenant ordered, "Marta, you and your men are coming with us. We're hitting that building right down there."

"Good." Marta replied coldly as he picked up his rifle, "Gonna kill their rat bastard leader inside."

"That's a negative, Chief." Randy stated as he approached the man carefully.

"What's it to you, _Lieutenant? _You're not the man who's seen half of his garrison killed."

Grabbing Marta by the collar, Randy got right in the defiant soldier's face. "'Cuz I want him alive! And when I give you an order, you damn well better follow it!"

Marta didn't reply, the cigarette still smoldering between his lips.

"You reading' me?" The Lieutenant growled, his free hand drifting towards the pistol on his hip.

"Loud and clear, _Lieutenant_."

Snatching the cancer stick from his mouth, Randy smothered it against Marta's shoulder plate, "Smoking's bad for you, don't you ever go on the extranet?"

Refusing to reply, Marta shoved the man away from him and brushed the ashes away from his armor. He turned to the marine behind him, "Corporal Jenkins, get everyone ready to move."

The soldier named Jenkins nodded and ran off.

Marta turned back to Randy as the rain began to fall harder than before, "Time to move, LT?"

"Time to move."

* * *

Jane stood up slowly, the barrel from her sniper red-hot as she ejected its thermal clip. She squinted as the soldiers below began moving to the other side of the park, towards the target's building. She looked down at the Chief, "Time to move, Chief. LT's moving out. We need a better position."

By the time Ashley had risen, Jane was already out the door. Catching up, they headed for the elevator and when the arrived at the bottom floor, headed back out into the raining world. Jane led, as if she had visited this town a thousand times before, and sprinted for a tall building, several blocks to the east. She halted suddenly and cursed as she looked up at a pair of twin buildings.

"What's wrong?" Ash asked nervously, her head moving from left to right, searching for any signs of movement.

Rubbing a wet hand through her mohawk, Jane shook her head, "I don't like this building, but it'll have to do."

"Something wrong with it?" Ash questioned as she stared at the gray building. It looked untouched from the severe fighting.

"Well if they figure out our position, all they have to do is fire at the only perfect building left in the whole town."

Ash grimaced. Good point. But saying nothing else, she ran towards the front door, Jane in pursuit. This door opened with little issue, but the two snipers were met with screaming as they entered the room. Jane lifted her rifle, but Ash shoved it away immediately.

A young asari was cowering in the far corner, next to an overturned dining table, two children under her arms. A man lay in the center of the floor facedown, blood pooling around his head. He wore a simple green jumpsuit, no weapons. Ash approached slowly, holding her rifle in one hand as she held out the other in front of her and pressed two fingers against his neck. No pulse.

She turned to the cowering woman and said softly, "Its okay, ma'am. We're Alliance. I'm not going to hurt you."

The woman mumbled something indiscernible as Jane began to check the other rooms, finger inside the trigger guard. Ash dropped to one knee in front of the woman and her kids.

"What you'd say, ma'am?"

The woman removed the trembling hand from in front of her mouth and whispered, "_He's _still here!"

A shuffle of heavy feet behind made the Chief's heart skip a beat. Suddenly a thick arm wrapped around her windpipe. A choked gasp was all the Chief could manage as she struggled to regain her senses.

She whipped her head back as hard as she could, making contact with her attacker's forehead. The grip on her throat wavered, and she ducked out of it.

On instinct, Ash swiveled around and lifted her rifle and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The crack of the rifle shot in an enclosed space like this made her ears ring in agony.

The attacker's shielding flared and normally would've held, absorbing the impact of the bullet no problem, but at such close range, the extra protection did little to stop the round. It passed through his failed shields and blew a hole the size of Ashley's fist through the front his chest, and about the size of a melon out the back. His blood painted the white walls red as he stumbled back, an expression of shock over his face.

The militiaman slammed into the wall behind him, and slid down, smearing even more red on the already stained wall. His head slumped over, all life gone.

Jane rushed back in and her mouth moved as if speaking, but no words came. Ears still ringing, Ash realized she just made herself go deaf. Staying on the floor, Ash didn't rise until the ringing stopped and her hearing returned. The first thing she heard again was two small children sobbing.

About to lose balance, Ash felt Jane's arm grabbing hers. "Come on, Chief." The sniper beckoned, "We gotta move."

* * *

Using his omni-tool as an microphone, Randy repeated his warning from behind the cover of a giant slab of fallen concrete, probably from the same building their target now took refuge in. "Kurran Ulyat, just surrender now and the rest of your men can go home! Nobody else has to die today!"

A raspy voice replied quickly, "So what, you can take me to a prison to rot for the rest of my life? Or my execution can be put up on the extranet? No thank you."

"Don't force my hand, Ulyat. I just want this to end." Randy warned again, motioning for his men to get into position, ready to breach the sealed entrance to the building. The corporal named Jenkins lead the breaching line, followed by Marta, Doug, and Guns. Tank and Gordon sat next to Randy. "…Come on, Ulyat. I've got dead husbands and wives out there, let's not add to _that_."

A brief pause allowed the air to be filled with the sound of falling water again, as if Ulyat was considering what to do, but his reply came quickly, "Talk will get you nowhere. Come and get me if you wish."

Randy nodded towards Jenkins, who slapped a thin block of plastic explosives to the sealed door and detonated them.

The soldier charged in, rifle leading the way. Gunshots echoed in the room as the other marines filled in, followed by shouting, then silence.

Guns roared as she flung a biotic missile at the closest militia soldier in the room, sending him several feet back before smashing him against a wall. His neck bent at a funny angle as he dropped to the ground and stopped moving. Marta shouted curses as he sprayed hot lead into an unlucky pair of enemies.

Amidst the chaos, Guns barely noticed Jenkins take several rounds to the chest, his barriers already had failed. He stumbled back as each bullet slammed into his armor, inciting screams of pain.

He stumbled back as Doug dropped the final two hostiles on this floor, Jenkins' head hit the hard ground shortly thereafter.

"Man down, man down!" Guns hollered as she dropped her rifle and fell to her knees, next to the wounded Corporal. Marta and Doug took up positions nearby, protecting the two.

Several holes burnt through his chest plate, crimson blood seeped through as his chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. His eyes fluttered back and forth, as if he had no idea where he was.

Guns snapped her fingers over his brown orbs as she brought up here omni-tool, "Stay with me, kid." She waved it over his body once and asked, "Talk to me, Corporal. What's your name?"

No words came from his lips at first, but he managed to speak, "S-Samuel Michael Jenkins, Chief…"

Guns grimaced as the screen on her tool showed the severity of his wounds, but nonetheless she brought up medi-gel and began to apply it carefully, "Got any family, Sam?"

"H-Ha-Had a b-brother. Name was Richard…"

"Get me a corpsman!" Guns shouted out the front door and turned back to Jenkins, "A brother, huh? Is he a marine, like you?"

Jenkins barely managed a grin, blood peeking out the corner of his lips, "He _was…_He died during the geth attack, right here on Eden Prime. Worked with…Commander Shepard. Sent me vids every week, telling me how honored and excited he was. Next thing I know, I get a letter from Alliance Command, saying my brother 'gave his life for a valiant cause.' It was bull…"

He chuckled weakly, "Ironic…how I'm gonna die where he died. Where we were both born…"

Two corpsmen rushed through the front door, one carried a back-pack filled with supplies. The one carrying pack nodded towards Guns, "We got him, Chief. You keep going."

Snatching up her weapon, Guns looked back to see the corpsmen giving grim looks to each other.

* * *

Ulyat rushed up the shattered stairway, entire chunks of the concrete structure slowly began to fall away. He heard Alliance soldiers killing off the last of his guard, gunfire and then silence being the confirmation the marines had won the battle. No reinforcements would come in to help Ulyat, most other parts of his militia were engaging other Alliance ground forces all over Ezra.

Reaching the top floor, where no roof or walls remained after a previous bombardment, he carefully made his way to the other side, a grin on his face. He still had one final ace up his sleeve. A shuttle.

He pressed a finger in his ear, "Jordan? Where's my getaway?"

"_Just look over to the south, boss. Comin' right now."_

Ulyat grinned again. No Alliance troopers were waiting for him, and the shuttle was now soaring towards him, in clear view. He was getting out.

"Lieutenant! We got a shuttle incoming on our six!"

Turning on his heels, Randy saw a beat-up Kodiak Shuttle hurtling in like a stallion, its engines flaring. It did a violent turn, revealing the side of the craft, its door opening wide. Hot jet wash blew over the marines as the ship settled out, a few feet from the top floor of the building Ulyat hid in.

Not a moment later, the militia leader appeared, ready to jump into the shuttle. His gray eyes found Randy, and Ulyat gave the Lieutenant the one finger salute as he hopped into the shuttle, its door closing behind him.

"Tank!" Randy screamed as the shuttle began to turn towards the west, its engines warming up for rapid acceleration. "Blow that thing out of the sky!"

Already having his rocket launcher in his paws, Tank didn't hesitate as he pointed to the sky, barrel aimed for the shuttle. He yanked back on the trigger, and the weapon punched back in response, hurling an explosive projectile for the hovering craft.

Metal shrieked as it was violently ripped away from each other, engines flared hot for a moment then failed, and the shuttle quickly nosed over.

* * *

Through the scope, Jane saw everything unfold. The shuttle slammed into the ground, molten metal spread everywhere, digging into Eden Prime's earth. The heavy rain did little to stop the fires from spreading around the crash site. Marines moved in, led by Lieutenant Crowe, rifles drawn.

A man stumbled from the craft, blood dripping down his head. His armor was covered in soot, dirt, and god knows what else.

Ashley hissed next to her, looking through her own optics, "That's _him_. Kurran Ulyat."

That name struck Jane instantly. This man was responsible for that family downstairs, the one with the dead man, lying in a pool of his own blood. She wasn't normally affected by dead soldiers, but it just wasn't right when it came to civilians. Gritting her teeth, she betrayed the number one rule of her job…Show no emotion.

Her crosshairs found the temple of Ulyat's head as he stumbled towards the Alliance marines, a sick little smile on his face. Her finger slipped inside the trigger guard, ready to yank back.

_Go to hell, you sick son of a bitch._

* * *

Randy brought his rifle up as soon as a man stumbled from the wreckage.

Ulyat himself. "So…you're Lieutenant Crowe, I presume?"

Slowly lowering his weapon, Randy replied as he noticed the militia's commander had no weapons on him. "You're under arrest, Ulyat."

Taking a single step back, feigning shock, the leader kept his smile going, "Whatever for, Lieutenant?"

Randy charged and yanked Ulyat in by the throat, "Murder, extortion, larceny…just to name a few." He tightened his grip, inciting gasps from Ulyat, "Tell me one thing… why? Your job was to protect the people of Eden Prime, not to turn into a mobster."

Before the criminal could reply, his head jerked to the side and he was thrown from the Lieutenant's grip, blood streamed from his temple as a gunshot rang out.

Randy froze for a moment, not expecting his target's head to get blown off right in front of him. Tank tackled him and dragged behind a damaged crate, right next to Chief Marta.

"Who the hell took that shot? We wanted him alive!" Randy finally yelled, both at the marines in front of him and over the radio.

Nobody with them said anything, staring at the Lieutenant with wide eyes. Randy looked down to see he was covered in Ulyat's blood, amongst other things.

"_Lieutenant, this is Corporal Hartford. I took the shot, sir."_

"We wanted him alive, Jane! What the hell?"

A moment's delay before the sniper responded, her voice showing no emotion. No regret, no anger, just the cold voice of a killer. _"Just cutting the head off the snake, sir."_

Unclipping his helmet, Randy slammed it against the ground and pressed his sweaty head against the cool, wet metal of the crate. He didn't have the energy anymore to yell and spit and argue. Looking at the Garrison Chief next to him, he asked with a sullen voice, "You got anymore smokes there, Marta?"

Digging into a compartment on his belt, Marta retrieved a carton of cigarettes, and handed one to the Lieutenant. "Ain't that kinda hypocritical there, sir? You said smoking's bad for ya…"

Randy gave a chuckle as Guns rushed for Ulyat's body, Tank and the others in tow. Placing the cancer stick between his lips, he responded, "Frankly Marta…Officers are hypocrites, you'll learn that the hard way."

Retrieving a lighter, Marta lit the Lieutenant's cigarette before lighting his own. Gray smoke danced skyward, dodging the droplets of rain that fell.

His throat and lungs burned, but Randy was far from caring.

So many dead from this one man, Alliance, militia, and civilian. And now he couldn't be punished for any of it. Randy would rather see a criminal suffer for years in a prison than let his get the easy way out. It was a crime against the victims, in his eyes. Puffing out the smoke slowly, he ordered a passing private, "Get the _Chicago _on the horn. Tell 'em the mission was a failure…We were unable to apprehend the target."

"What about the sniper who took the shot, sir?"

"Right now, kid, I don't care." He just wanted to get off Eden Prime, and into a warm bed.

He was just tired. Just plain tired.

* * *

Peace.


	6. The Kerridian

The Kerridian

* * *

_**Normandy **_**SR-2, Cargo Hold.**

His armor was gone, stripped of the very thing that came to symbolize a Black Talon, save for the scars and tattoos that covered his face. His scaly brown skin was bruised and bloodied from a beating that had lasted all last night. With both hands bounded behind his back, there wasn't much he could do against his attackers.

Slowly, the Talon stared up at the large turian standing over him; the blue targeting computer over his left eye gave a faint glow. It was the same one he met on Omega, convincing him in his drunken state to do whatever he wanted. He blacked out quickly thereafter, and he awoke to a beating and several figures screaming questions at him.

Whatever ship he was on had blasted far away from Omega, far away from his ship and his men. All alone.

"You might as well quit right now!" Gorrun Falan hissed through the pain that stemmed from his now broken rib. "Because I'm not telling you shit!"

Garrus' mandibles flared again, and his boot shot up for the same spot as before. The Black Talon didn't even flinch as his chest exploded with pain. A predatory voice rattled his ears, "I'm not going to ask again, Commander." His claws grabbed Falan's cheeks and he forced him to look up at his angry eyes, "Where did you take Shepard?"

A low chuckle rumbled in Falan's throat as he revealed his spiny teeth in a grin, "I don't know."

Miranda watched from the corner with disapproval as Garrus roared in annoyance, his hands shooting down to the other turian's windpipe.

A choked gurgle and spittle escaped from the Commander's mouth, no air getting in or out. This wasn't getting them anywhere. Over the past half hour, Garrus had just been beating on Falan and demanding information. Cerberus handled its 'clientele' a bit differently, so to speak.

A cocktail of drugs and stims would keep the subject lucid and responsive, while every nerve in his or her body flared with whatever feeling the interrogators pleased, whether it was numbness, intense cold or heat, and of course, pain. Miranda had watched those types of sessions before, and their success rates were very high. Surely the _Normandy_ had enough medications onboard to substitute for the drugs needed…

Most of the crew wasn't in the cargo hold, not wishing to participate in what Garrus called 'a venture of information gathering.' C-Sec talk for a beating.

Only Tali and Miranda chose to stay, and the quarian had said nothing up until now, who grabbed Garrus by the shoulder and shouted, "Enough!"

Growling, the former cop released Falan and shoved him to his back. Panicked gasps for air filled the hold.

Tali watched the turian on the ground with worried eyes. They dragged him to the _Normandy _the night before, amongst the bodies of his own men. The Talons fought together like nothing she's ever seen before. Even in the face of certain defeat, they kept shooting, refusing to surrender or falter.

_So much like Shepard…_

Her thoughts turned bitter as she reminded herself Gorrun Falan was a Black Talon, just like Farrax. They were their new enemies now, on top of the mercs, the geth, and the Reapers.

"We're not getting anywhere like this." Tali finally added as she waved a hand to the turian on the ground, the rising and falling of his chest slowed as Falan steadied his breathing remarkably quick. His training probably enabled him to sustain interrogation. Sighing, Tali jokingly added, "Maybe you should get him drunk again."

"I wouldn't mind." Falan nodded slowly with the smile on his face again. "Doubt you have anything for a turian on a _human _ship anyways. Nothin' that helps make the flashbacks go away."

Garrus opened his mouth to speak, but then what Falan had told him earlier rang out in his head like a bell.

"_I relived the same kills over and over again. It wouldn't stop…" _

"Miranda?"

The woman's skin crawled when she heard the turian call her name, and she responded bitterly, "What?"

"Do we have any of those psychotropic drugs?"

Falan looked up with wide eyes. He went quite, holding his breath.

Miranda noticed and smiled, knowing where he wanted to go with this. "Yes, we do. Plenty of them." Activating her omni-tool, she selected her drug of choice and approached the alien Commander, "I have a nasty chemical here called 'Widow.' It's a little number that basically crawls into your brain and sets your neurons on fire. Intense brain activity follows, usually in the form of hallucinogenic visions or flashbacks. Not fun stuff." She knelt to the left of Falan, sweat dripping from his forehead now.

She whispered to him with the faintest of grins, "So enjoy…"

Jabbing the tool into his forearm, Falan screamed in protest and then began to hyperventilate, his eyes went wider. His thick arms pried against his restraints with no reward, no hope of breaking them.

"Please…oh spirits why? Don't…"

Garrus knelt to his right as Tali watched helplessly.

_This wasn't right. This was cruelty, even for a man like him. Nobody deserved this._

"Take us back, Gorrun." Garrus said softly, knowing he would get what he needed soon. "Take us back to your first kill."

Falan fell to his back again and stared up at the ceiling. He spoke slowly and mechanically, knowing the memories that he tried so hard to avoid would find him again. "It was…boot camp. When I first took life…when blood first covered my hands."

_Their exercise was meant to teach them the mechanics of old-style knife combat. They started out with wooden peripherals, but during the final week the recruits moved up the real deal. Cold, sharp, unforgiving steel._

_His opponent was a fellow recruit by the name of Ortall Yua, a younger but much larger soldier compared to Gorrun, standing at least a foot taller._

_Both turians circled the sparring ring, nicks covering their scaly arms, where blood now dripped from. Each time they went in close to strike, they usually countered each other with their own blade, but occasionally an arm was the only option. Either suffer a cut, or accept defeat._

_Defeat was unacceptable if you wished to become a Talon._

_Gorrun was out of breath and dead tired, with a thin sheet of sweat covering him, mixing with the blood. His blade was gripped tightly in his right hand, drying blood ran along the sharpened edge. _

_He couldn't afford to do yet another full on assault on Ortall, his sheer size and strength were proving to be the decisive factor in this match. Another tactic was needed, a more defensive one. Flipping the weapon in his hands, Gorrun used a technique the instructors had taught him called the reverse grip, where the blade was pointed downward and away from the thumb, as opposed upwards like most people preferred._

_And now he had to wait, wait for Ortall to come and make the next move. But the large opponent refused to at first, simply eyeing down Gorrun, refusing to move._

_The lead drill instructor growled at the hesitant display before him, and he shouted with anger searing his deep voice, "I BETTER SEE SOMEONE MOVE, OR I'LL RUN YOU BOTH UNTIL YOU DIE!"_

_Ortall roared and charged, heeding the man's warning. He cast out his arm, blade leading. Leaning back, Gorrun dodged the sharp tip, preventing it from slicing his chest open._

_Recoiling, Gorrun thrusted forward using his legs, pushing his opponent's blade hand away with his free one._

_Now…REACT! STRIKE! _

_He then simply brought the tool in his right hand up and slashed with all his might on instinct, letting a small roar escape his throat. _

_Blood sprayed. Fresh blood._

_Ortall stumbled back, the metallic clinking of his knife sounded off as his hands wrapped around his throat, a spew of bluish-black blood pouring between his fingers as he fell to his knees, gagging._

_Dropping his own knife, Gorrun rushed to his opponent's side._

_The drill instructor shouted as he rose to his feet, "Shit, we got a bleeder! Get me a medic!"_

_It was in vain though. Ortall fell to the ground, blood-covered hands dropping to his sides. Motionless, soundless, lifeless._

"My first kill…" Gorrun shuddered helplessly as Shepard's crew watched him. "And it wasn't even in real combat…"

A cold hand wrapped around his collar, yanking him back up. Garrus hissed again, "You want to relive any more? How 'bout you tell us some more…"

"NO!" Gorrun jerked backwards, freeing himself from the grip, "Just stop! I'll do anything!"

"Then tell us where you took him." Miranda ordered, her accent doing nothing to hide the malice behind her words.

"I don't know, I really don't know where _exactly_."

Preparing to strike, Garrus balled a fist and was ready to beat the piss out of this wreck of a soldier. He was tired of this, and he just wanted his friend back.

"Wait!" Gorrun shouted. "He's been taken to a prison called Last Dawn somewhere in the Traverse, but it's complicated."

"A prison!" Tali yelped in surprise. "Shepard isn't a criminal!"

"Look lady, I don't know why he was taken, but Farrax wanted him."

"Tell me where it is or I swear to _Keelah_…" The quarian brought up her omni-tool and slowly approached, enraged at hearing that name.

"It's in an uncharted system, and I don't how to get there." Gorrun explained nervously, sweat dripping down his tattooed face. "If we wish to go there, our ship VI takes over and sends us through a random series of mass relays before we go through the final one. We don't know how to get there, even if we wanted to. It was meant to be a meant to be another security measure, so no one from the outside could bust someone out or stumble upon the facility accidentally."

"So," Garrus nodded, pleased for the first time. They had a lead. "If we want to find out where they took Shepard, we need to go to your ship."

Gorrun nodded back as he slowly regained his composure, "The _Kerridian. _Probably still docked at Omega."

Lifting the Commander to his feet, Garrus guided the man to the corner and ordered EDI to bring up the stasis fields. A blue wall of energy flared between the two turians, keeping the Talon confined to the corner. Gorrun slumped against the wall and shook his head, as if trying to shake away the horrible images in his brain.

Making his way to the elevator, Garrus already found Tali and Miranda inside. On their way back up, Garrus couldn't help but comment, "Miranda…that was good. But…I never heard of a drug called Widow, even in C-Sec."

She smirked. "That's because there's no such thing as Widow." Lifting her omni-tool to bear, she simply showed the turian what she had selected. Medi-gel.

The turian nearly chuckled, "Miranda, that's… _brilliant._"

"That's _cruel_." Tali reprimanded. "Did you even see what happened to him when he was having that episode?"

"So says the girl who was ready to hurt him not two minutes ago." The Cerberus Officer curtly retorted, before turning back to Garrus. "So this ship is still back on Omega, then? We're not going back, are we?"

Garrus weighed his options. Their goal was the VI aboard the turian frigate the _Kerridian._ If they returned to Omega, a team of commandos would be waiting for them, probably with merc assistance. Aria T'Loak wouldn't be pleased with a fight that large on _her _station anyways. That left him with one other option, and he hoped it was still viable.

"EDI?"

"_Yes, Garrus?"_

"Get in touch with Kasumi Goto. Let's see if that transponder Shepard gave her still works."

* * *

**Aria T'Loak's Private Loft, Omega. Relative Station Time: Midnight.**

This woman had _taste._

Even for a crime lord, Aria apparently was a collector of fine memorabilia. Ranging from asari art to diamonds. Lots and lots of diamonds. Precious jewels lined the walls, in glass cases propped up on tables, probably under her bed. She noted to make a second trip back here.

Kasumi lithely fell from the ceiling, her feet silently hitting the floor. Cameras were nonfunctional, as were any other security measures. She ran her gloved fingers along one of the glass cases as she made her way for the far stairwell. A bright purple jewel caught her eye, and paused with a mischievous grin. A person as rich as Aria wouldn't miss just _one_, would she? The master thief doubted it.

Turning away, she sprinted up the stairway, yet again her feet making no noise. Her dark eyes found exactly what she wanted. A small terminal, most likely loaded with the information she needed.

Like it or not, information was worth more than the all the diamonds in the galaxy now, which depressed the thief slightly.

_Technology will be our downfall one day. _She joked in her head. _Rue the day, I say! Rue it!_

She eased herself into the chair in front of the terminal and activated it. Aria was roaring outside the room, arguing with her batarian lieutenant. That would give Kasumi at least ten more minutes. Plenty of time.

A beep in her ear. The tone that followed was classical music, Richard Wagner, Ride of the Valkyries. It reminded her so much of Shep, sweeping crescendos reminded her of his demeanor, subtle at first, but slowly gaining momentum over time. It played the day she had to leave, just a few days after their suicide mission.

_A full orchestra played over the speakers, with heavy horns adding a thunderous sweep into the increasingly chaotic wave of music. It made her heart race every time._

"_Sure you're not going to stay?"_

_Kasumi smiled to herself as she packed up the last of her things into two, small duffel bags. Keiji's graybox was inside one of them._

_She sighed sadly as she stuffed a few books inside one bag, "Can't. My line of work is always open, and Cerberus just froze my payment for this. Girl's gotta make money, right?"_

_Shepard huffed with feigned offense, "Please, you just love the thought of stealing."_

_Closing her bag, she looked over the observation deck, her de facto room during her stay on the Commander's ship, now empty. Just like she found it. Turning around, she found Shepard with a tiny grin on his face, a hand out in front of him. She raised a brow and put her hands on her hips, "A handshake? Please. Come here you big bastard."_

_She yanked him in and wrapped her arms around the tall Spectre. "Give me a call once in a while, okay Shep?"_

"_I can do better than that." Shepard smiled as he released Kasumi and held a small device in the palm of his hands. "Long distance transponder," he explained as his grin faded, "just in case. You can call us, and we can call you."_

_The thief let the Commander place the tiny object into her cupped hands and stared at it long and hard. She gave nervous chuckle, "Shep, this is Cerberus stuff here. Like…__really__ high-tech gear. Signals that this thing projects can-"_

"_Span a lot of distance, I know." Shepard finished with a nod. "I've more or less sent my resignation letter to Cerberus anyways. Might as well give you this as a parting gift."_

_Kasumi smiled as she removed the hood from her head and placed it in her ear. "Thank you, Commander."_

"_Don't be a stranger, Kasumi." Shepard nodded as Kasumi walked for the door, both bags over her back._

"_And Kasumi?"_

_She froze._

"_Can I have my credit chit back, please?"_

Kasumi pressed a finger against her ear while her other hand worked on the terminal, still booting up.

"Kasumi Goto, master thief extraordinaire, at your service." She began casually, speaking out loud, when Aria was only a few rooms away.

It was Garrus who whispered in her ear as data streamed on the terminal in front of her. The files she wanted were blocked, of course.

"_Kasumi?" _The turian mused, his voice like gravel. _"Are you…busy?"_

"Me? Never busy when it comes to friends." The thief stated with a grin. Beeping, the computer demanded a voiceprint in order for someone to gain access. Kasumi sighed and continued, "Garrus, can you give me _one _second?"

"_By all means."_

She muted the transponder and waved her omni-tool over her mouth, and when she spoke into it, Aria's voice came out. "_Access files sixty-three through sixty-nine._"

The computer hummed as it searched for and compiled what she wanted. It then hummed quietly, "_Voiceprint required, Miss T'Loak. Please enter your password."_

"'_I don't give a vorcha's ass._'"

"_Access granted. Enjoy."_

Files swarmed the screen, too many for her to count. Moving the tool away from her lips, Kasumi copied every single byte of data onto her tool and wiped the local copy. That part of the job wasn't required, but Aria was a criminal nonetheless. Might as well screw with her pretty little blue head.

"So…" Kasumi started as she rose from the seat, leaving the computer terminal running. "How ya doin' Garrus?"

His voice was still gravel as he replied, _"Kasumi, this really isn't a personal call."_

_Joker was right, there was a stick still stuck up his scaly ass._

"I figured. How come Shep isn't calling?"

A slight hesitation by the turian, meaning he was hiding something. _"He's…preoccupied right now. That's not important. I need to call in a favor, though."_

Tapping on the screen of the tool around her arm, forcing it to go dark, Kasumi waltzed back down the stairs and headed for the glass wall that overlooked all of Omega rather large bed. Tapping the glass with her knuckles, the thief reached for her belt and grabbed a fist-sized device, aiming for the glass portal in front of her.

"What kind of favor?"

"_I'm calling one of the greatest thieves in the galaxy…" _He started out with a low chuckle.

_Correction: __The__ greatest thief in the galaxy._

He continued, _"…so what do you think?"_

"No need to be a smartass." Kasumi hissed back with a grin as she pulled the trigger on the small device. Glass shattered into literally millions of tiny pieces, the roar of noise caused Aria's screams to cease.

"_We need you to get a ship's navigational VI."_

"Not what people usually ask me to get. Most want the whole ship. Sounds simple enough though," she said. "What's the catch?"

"_The ship's on Omega, docking yard eight, port one." _Garrus continued, ignoring her question. _"I'll send the specifics to your omni-tool. Can you get there soon?"_

"Give me two hours. Kasumi out." Clicking off the transponder, the lithe bandit turned to find Aria and three guards entering the room, weapons drawn. Feet at the edge, facing a thousand or more story drop, Kasumi turned to the crime lord.

"You've got nowhere to go…" Aria hissed, her purple skin flaring blue with prepared biotics, "…so how 'bout you give back whatever you stole, and I won't have you flayed _alive_."

Kasumi winked and fell backwards, into the cold, black air of Omega. A second later, she landed in a seat of an open-top shuttle, waiting for her a few feet below. Pistol rounds rained down as the shuttle turned and rocketed far away from Aria's loft, the crime lord's shriek of anger filled the night.

Kasumi smiled.

* * *

**Utopia System, SSV **_**Chicago.**_

"You're lucky Command doesn't slap your ass with a _court-martial!_"

Corporal Jane Hartford stood at attention, her eyes locked straight ahead as the Lieutenant screamed in her face, his white skin red with anger. No emotion from the sniper.

"You're lucky _I _don't slap your ass with a court-martial!" Randy threatened again. "You nearly blew off _my _head…"

Jane spoke up for the first time ever since she entered the Lieutenant's quarters, "Sir, I took the wind, elevation, humidity, distance, and about a dozen other factors into account before I pulled the trigger. Your life was never in any danger."

"Why, then?" Randy demanded, still red in the face, "Why did you shoot him, I wanted Ulyat alive! The _Alliance _wanted him alive!"

Jane's eyes darted left and right, searching for answers. Finding none, her deep brown orbs found Randy's green ones. "I…don't know, sir. I just got…_angry._"

* * *

Ashley rested against the small couch she had found with the crew quarters. At least that was one benefit when it came to serving on cruisers, they had furniture. The most the _Normandy _had was a couple of chairs in the Comm Center, and that was about it. But here, on the _Chicago_, you got _couches._

Sighing, the Chief pulled up the holo-pad she had and began flipping through her mail. A few old messages from her sister, Sarah, a couple of spam ads she would delete eventually, and not much else. She didn't notice Tank standing over her.

The soldier huffed, "Howdy, ma'am."

Ash smiled at the large man, who was always polite to her, for whatever reason. "Hey Tank. How are you holding up?"

He took a seat next to Ash and sighed, "I dunno, ma'am. Never thought I'd go to Eden Prime, and see it like that." Tank rubbed his forehead, "I mean, it's always in the vids nowadays as something perfect, even after the geth attack. But after seeing destroyed buildings and dead…dead…"

"Civilians?" Ash asked softly as she put her holo-pad down. "I know what it's like to see that stuff. It ain't fun."

"Fun isn't how I'd describe it, ma'am. More like horrible." Tank looked back up at the woman, "I mean, how can someone shoot a defenseless noncombatant?"

Images of Eden Prime flashed across Ash's eyes.

_Geth troopers blasting away at farmers, trying to run for the marines up the hill, where most of the 212 was taking up positions. Before the then Gunnery Chief could get her bearings, the civilians were cut down, red blood caked the soft grass beneath their feet._

"Ma'am?"

_One robot ignored the screaming rifles from marines as it dragged a still-living colonist away, blood smearing the ground as he thrashed and begged for help. Ash held onto the trigger until it overheated, but the geth kept walking, as if the bullets were pinpricks. _

_Joshua took a round to the chest, right through his armor. He was dead before he hit the ground. Nirali cursed and sprinted down the hill, despite Ash trying to grab her. The young private ignored all calls for her name as her rifle spit death upon a geth soldier, white 'blood' leaking from the holes in its breastplate. Nirali's left knee explodes in a red haze, and she dropped to the ground, two more geth appeared to drag her away._

_Where were they taking them?_

"Ma'am?"

_The geth retreated two minutes later, giving up ground slowly before they disappeared all together. Ash led a small squad, following the trail of red blood that trailed over Eden Prime's surface. _

_Her question was quickly answered. A dozen or more people were held up feet in the air, impaled by silver spikes, right through their chests. The civilian from earlier was there._

_So was Nirali, eyes rolled back, mouth permanently open in an expression of fear._

_A marine next to Ashley stumbled to the ground and vomited, others sobbed, seeing colonists and soldiers alike they've gotten to know, dead right in front of them. Ash couldn't even move._

_Dragon's Teeth._

Tank's large hand landed and Ashley's shoulder, and he shook her gently. "Ma'am?"

Ash's vision cleared, but she shook her head to make sure. "Sorry, I'm sorry… Bad memories."

"It was more than that, ma'am."

"I'm fine, Tank." She shrugged as her mind cleared.

"You didn't move for a whole minute. I counted."

_Goddamned people, always worrying about me. _

"I'm _fine_, I swear."

Unconvinced, Tank leaned back and huffed, arms crossed over his chest.

Ashley took a deep breath and grabbed her holo-pad. She needed some Whitman right now, maybe Tennyson. Hell, might as well go for the Bible, of course, the paper copy she had was under her bed.

Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere, Tank relented and tried changing the subject. Death and war weren't really the best conversations starters anyways. "So, you knew Shepard, huh?"

Looking up from the screen again, Ash nodded, "Yeah. Probably the best helmsman I've ever served under."

"What was he like?"

_Oh boy… _How could you describe a man like Shepard? A hero? A symbol? Something more? He was the knight coming to slay the dragon, he was the noble politician in a sea of corruption, he was the single star of light in an endless and dark sea of destruction that plagued the galaxy. Mere words spoken by him made you want to fight, even die for him. Then he'd probably go into the very pits of Hades to bring you back out.

He was a man that would make you feel good enough.

Ash grinned, "You mean what _is _he like?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Tank shrugged, "I just gotten used to him being dead, and now he's back all of the sudden, but what is he like?"

Her answer was simple. "He was a god among men. Not like he'd ever admit it though."

The next question had been on Tank's tongue ever since he found out Chief Williams was in his squad, "What happened after he 'died?'"

Pain surged through Ash's chest, unpleasant memories threatened to intrude, but she held it in check as she remembered one particular verse. She cleared her throat and spoke aloud.

"_O powerful western fallen star!_

_O shades of night-O moody, tearful night!_

_O great star disappeared-O the black murk that hides the star!_

_O cruel hands that hold me powerless-O helpless soul of me!_

_O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul."_

Tank stared at her with wide eyes, the corners of his lips turned into a grin. "That was…_incredible._"

Out of all the people in the universe, he didn't expect the woman in front of him to know poetry.

Warm feelings filled Ash's chest as she fondly recalled the poet. "Walt Whitman. He wrote it after Abraham Lincoln died."

"Was Shepard your Abraham Lincoln? Minus the awesome beard?"

Ash chuckled, but her eyes found the screen of her holo-pad, the background a picture of her former CO. Her smiled died.

"Yeah…Skipper was _my _Abraham Lincoln."

* * *

Peace.


	7. Varren of War

Varren of War

* * *

"Uhh, Garrus? Are these schematics correct?"

"_They should be, Kasumi. What's wrong with them?"_

The thief huffed as her dark eyes scanned the holographic image floating above the palm of her omni-tool. "This ship…looks just like the _Normandy_."

"_I know." _Garrus huffed back. _"That's why this job will be easy for you. Just get to the VI Core and yank it out."_

Shutting her tool off, Kasumi waltzed down the corridors of Omega's service tunnels, well below what was considered the 'surface' of the stations. Down here it was humid, noisy, and dark. Perfect for anyone trying to move undetected. According to her best guess, she was now right under the _Kerridian's _docking bay.

Finding a ladder, Kasumi spoke aloud into her transponder as she began to scale it, "So, how are you guys going to come and get me?"

"_We're not. Did you ever hear about a firefight that went down near Afterlife about a day ago?"_

"Yeah, I remember a few thugs talking about that. A _lot _of blood to clean up."

"_That was us. And I have a feeling we won't be let back in without getting shot down."_

Kasumi groaned. Things were never simple, were they?

* * *

Sneaking aboard the ship was easy enough, since they left their cargo bay wide open and unguarded. The master thief hadn't noticed any sort of guard detail, but that was most likely because of Garrus and his fight near Afterlife. He had probably killed a lot of the crewmen. The _Normandy _wasn't exactly filled to the brim with people, so she guessed the_Kerridian _would have even less after the fight.

Slipping behind a rather large ammo crate, Kasumi pulled up her omni-tool and accessed the frigate's security systems. Methodically going down the list, she fried every measure in place to stop people from breaking onto ships, cameras, sensors, whatever.

With a grin, she activated her stealth cloak and shut off her omni-tool.

She stared at her hands as a wave of light passed over them, and they _disappeared_ right in front of her. Perfect. She was invisible, _unseen_. This would be easy, as long as these turians aboard didn't have vision enhancers.

She stalked towards the elevator at the far end of the room, and pressed the call button.

Taking two tiny steps back, Kasumi waited for the doors to part. When they did, two burly turians appeared inside the elevator, black tattoos on their faces shined in the light. The thief held her breath as the two soldiers spoke to each other, taking their first steps out of the elevator.

"So, what do you think the Lieutenant will do? Half of the crew's dead and Commander Falan's gone…"

Two more steps, just a few feet away from the cloaked thief.

"I dunno…" The other one responded sullenly, "Maybe he'll-"

_Strike! Now!_

Her hands flew upwards as closed fists, clocking each alien in front of her right underneath their chins. Both stumbled back, surprised at being struck by nothingness. She didn't let them recover as she dropped to the ground and swept her leg out, catching each Talon by the ankles. Loud clashing of armor hitting metal followed, and then the thief pounced like a panther.

_Nighty-night._

Both turians stopped moving, going silent.

Kasumi rose to her feet and dragged the first turian away to a dark corner, followed by the second. Both were alive, just unconscious, but they would wake up pretty sore and disoriented. She normally didn't resort to killing during her heists, only when it was necessary.

No one needed to die over possessions or information, that was her simple belief.

Guiding herself into the elevator, her omni-tool beeped, showing the cloak was running low on energy. Sighing, she deactivated the device, allowing herself to appear as the elevator doors closed in front of her. She tapped the button for the third deck, labeled 'Crew Quarters.'

If these schematics were correct, then all she would have to do was take a left and move right through the med-bay. Rumbling, the elevator halted and the metal doors slipped open without a sound, revealing a well-lit room. Poking her head out, Kasumi found _nobody _on this deck.

No one. Nada. Zip.

Shivers rattled her spine. Either these guys were undermanned, or Garrus and the others killed more then she realized. Her usually quiet footsteps resonated loudly as she stepped onto the abandoned deck.

Everything was just like the _Normandy_, the walls, the doorways, right down to the screws and bolts. It was…_creepy. _

Sure she'd been on dozens of freighters before, and all had more or less the same design, but the _Normandy _was special, one of a kind. It was wrong to just outright copy it.

Forcing her feelings aside, she checked the status of her cloak. Ninety-five percent. Close enough.

Reactivating the shroud, Kasumi approached the med-bay doors and opened it. The smell of blood washed over her, and her eyes were treated to a grim sight. All five of the gurneys inside the bay were filled with an alien body. Two more had to take up residence on the floor, no other place for them. White bandages were stained a bluish-black, machines beeped with weak vital signs, and the occasional groan of pain arose.

Two female turians tended to a wounded Talon. Both were slender creatures, not as tall or stout as the males, but their faces alone defined their years of service. One tried comforting the wounded soldier before her, while the other applied medi-gel to the bleeding wound across his chest.

The one trying to comfort the soldier looked over towards the one of the other life monitors across the room, just as it gave off warning tones.

"Jarul is flat-lining." She reported grimly.

"There's nothing we can do for him," the other one reported, a hint of sadness in her voice. "His condition was far-gone to start with. I gave him plenty of painkillers earlier; he won't be in any p-pain…" The woman gritted her teeth, holding back her emotions as she tried to stay professional, "Let him pass."

Kasumi snuck past the two, and once they had their backs to the door, the thief passed through and into the VI Core. She noticed a single turian working at a console, his back to her.

Each step closer to the alien was quiet, no longer making noise. Flattening her hand, Kasumi lifted her hand into the air and chopped, the brunt of her hand meeting the side of the alien's neck.

"Hiyah!"

His head jerked sideways and he grunted before falling to the ground, unconscious. The thief looked at her hand, down at the knocked out turian, then back to her hand.

Damn. She didn't think that would work.

Her cloak shorted out again as she approached the console and began to rummage through it. Being a master of technology along with thievery, she found what she needed rather quickly. Making a copy of the VI and all its contents to an OSD, Kasumi radioed Garrus.

"Found it."

"_Good job." _Garrus beamed, a grin in his voice.

Looking at the OSD thoughtfully, the thief sat on the out-cold turian as she responded, "Well since I'm holding a VI worth _so _much to you, how about you start filling me in. Where's Shep?"

"_Kasumi, this isn't the time for-"_

"You're not in the position to bargain here, Garrus." She hissed back. If there was one thing she hated, it was being treated like a child. "Where. Is. He."

He sighed a long, melodramatic sigh, but the voice that followed was cold. Harsh. Calculating.

"_He's been taken, Kasumi. And that VI is going to get him back."_

* * *

**SSV **_**Chicago. **_**Currently in formation with the rest of Fifth Fleet.**

"Everyone on your feet! Let's go!"

The voice dragged the Operations Chief out of her slumber, but she kept her eyes shut.

By Standard Time, it was about three in the morning, a time where no one should be awake. Hell, if the Reapers were knocking at her door, she'd tell them to come back after the sun came up.

A thin hand fell on her shoulder.

"Come on, Chief." Guns groggily moaned as she nudged her superior again.

Randy looked over his team with a grin as he shouted, "Rise and shine! It's another glorious day in the Navy, and I think our good friend Admiral Deville found us a lead on Shepard!"

Ash shot out of her cot, making Guns jump.

She could hear Doug shouting from across the room, "This better be good, LT! I like sleeping!"

Randy swept a hand across the center table, not caring about what contents he knocked over as he slapped a holo-projector on top. As everyone gathered around, Randy activated the device. The schematics for a Kowloon-class freighter appeared, rotating slowly as it burned bright orange in the dark room, forcing Ash and Doug to cover their eyes.

"A freighter?" Tank groaned. "Forgive me, sir. But a freighter? Unless Shepard's onboard, I'm going back to bed."

Ignoring the sleepy comrade, Randy continued, "It's a Cerberus spy vessel, disguised as a Kowloon freighter." He stated curtly. "It's been following the _Normandy _until recently."

"How long had it been following the _Normandy_?" Ash asked eagerly. This was their first hint of a trail, something they could build off of.

"Ever since Shepard had been bagged, apparently. Our forward recon units found her floating out in space. Captain Hannah Shepard aboard the _Orizaba _wanted it untouched until we arrived." The Lieutenant explained as he deactivated the holo. "So far, our scanners can't pick up anything on the inside, and we're getting no response from anyone who could be onboard. Cerberus probably has life sign dampeners within the ship, though, so we can't tell if anyone's alive in there."

He cleared his throat to stress his next point. "We're being sent in to investigate. That means we'll be on our own. Load up and meet me on the shuttle in five. Dismissed."

* * *

**Armory.**

The quartermaster handed Ash her helmet. Eggshell white, with a pink stripe going down the middle. In the Alliance, everyone was allowed to customize their armor to a certain degree, as long as it didn't make them standout too much. A single pink stripe was modest compared to some others, where she saw some men drawing rather racy pictures of other women on their shoulders.

They explained it like what World War II bomber pilots were doing, just 'decorating' what they had.

Sliding the protective gear over her head and locking it into place, Ash rolled her neck and went over her mental checklist.

_Rifle? Check._

_Pistol? Check._

_Boomstick?_

She patted the small of her back, and found her shotgun waiting for her. A grin creased her cheeks.

_Check._

Five grenades laid across her breastplate attached to a bandolier, along with spare thermal clips. Grenades were probably a bit over the top, but she wasn't taking her chances.

'_Better to arrive over-prepared than under-prepared,' _was what her dad always told her.

Tank was having Doug and Guns check his armor for any dings or dents, and of course, there weren't any. It seems the largest soldier on the team was a bit neurotic.

Jane was dragging two fingers smeared in eye-black under each eye, before making her usual design of three lines over each cheek. Her cold eyes found Randy, who was checking his pistol, and she spoke aloud, "Sir. Could you hand me the rifle by your feet, sir?"

Randy kept his eyes trained on his pistol as he coolly responded, "That's a negative, Corporal. You're not on this op."

"What?" Jane nearly shouted, her nostrils flaring.

"Enclosed space aboard the vessel we're boarding will prevent your effectiveness, seeing how you're mainly a sniper." He said as he attached the pistol to his thigh. "You're sitting this one out, like it or not."

The sniper didn't reply, but the anger in her stance was clear. With shaking fists, the sniper marched out of the armory, already wiping the eye-black off her face.

Ashley shook her head. The way she took that shot on Eden Prime was unnecessary and probably would've resulted in a court-martial for any other soldier, but the LT didn't have to treat her like that. Ash would get on Randy's case later, but not now, not while they could possibly find out where Shepard could be.

Randy called up the now-smaller team and tapped his helmet, the breather mask folding over his face and locking in with a hiss. His voice came out from two tiny speakers, "Keep your breathers on at all times. More than likely life support will be offline, and God knows what else is onboard a Cerberus vessel. Is that clear?"

Ash nodded and tapped the side of her helmet as well. Her own mask locked in, trapping her inside her own armor. Looking over the team, she saw they all had done the same. They all looked more like machines then humans.

* * *

The shuttle rocked slightly as it entered the mass effect field of the freighter, the hull rocking the occupants back and forth slowly. Ash stood next to Randy in the cockpit, both soldiers stood over the lone pilot, who guided the craft through the inky black of space towards their target.

Randy pointed to the rear of the ship, near the engines. Large chunks of the hull were gone, apparently blown away. "You see that?" He asked, with the Chief nodding back. "That proves this vessel was attacked then. Whoever went after it was smart. Take out the engines and your target can't run."

Scanning the ship herself, Ash added, "No other damage, though. And no other boats in the area. You think whoever did this left in a hurry?"

A shrug from Randy. "We'll find out once we're inside." He looked down at the pilot, "Take us in. Dock with her."

"You got it." The pilot responded, who cracked his knuckles before his fingers snapped to the controls. The engines groaned in response, and the shuttle lurched forward for the closest docking port. Flipping through a few panels of info, the pilot turned his head up towards Randy. "Every other extravehicular port has been blown out, except for one. It'll lead you straight to the cargo bay."

Could be a trap. Only one port available screamed _trap_. But with no other vessel in the region besides half of the Fifth Fleet, Randy felt pretty confident they would come out all right. Plus, they had the _Orizaba _overlooking them. If worst came to worst, then she could fire a twenty-kilo ferrous slug and blow the little freighter to hell and back anyways.

Turning to port, the shuttle glided into the docking port. With a loud clack, the magnetic moorings snapped in place, holding the shuttle in place.

"Let's go, Chief." Randy ordered as he turned and yanked his rifle free from his back. "Time to earn that hazard pay."

* * *

Gordon kept one eye on his omni-tool and the other ahead of him as they passed through the narrow corridor that connected between shuttle and Cerberus freighter. His free hand gripped his pistol nervously. The power was dead, only faint emergency lighting on the ceiling providing any sort of illumination.

"Alvarez, status?" Guns asked as she kept her eye trained down the sights of her assault rifle.

"Atmosphere inside the freighter _appears _to be at tolerable levels. Oxygen level is normal." He reported quickly as he deactivated his tool and raised his weapon. His hot breath smacked him right back in the face, his breathing mask not exactly letting him _breathe. _

"Keep your masks on, people." Randy ordered as he opened the door separating the shuttle from the freighter. It slid open silently, with Randy and Doug's rifles poking through first.

Randy chimed in again as he took a few steps inside. "Well, looky here."

Lowering his rifle, Randy lifted a hand to the metal doorframe, where once a steel door inches thick once stood, now gone. A black, sooty line smeared the perimeter. "Check out this plasma scoring. Someone _cut _their way through the door, the Cerberus crewmen probably locked them out, but that didn't stop 'em. Only pissed them off."

He ran his fingers along the black scoring, revealing gray metal underneath. Wiping away the soot away from his gloved hand, he stepped into the room to find the door they cut through, sitting on the floor. Ten _inches _of steel.

Kneeling on the steel portal, the Lieutenant raised a hand and ordered, "Williams, Martz, move it up. Alvarez, scan for any life signs."

Ashley ghosted to the front, her shotgun clutched in a tight grip with both hands. Taking a knee, she activated the flashlight at the end of the barrel, casting a narrow beam of light into the darkened cargo bay.

Nothing…_Nothing…_

Too quiet, too empty.

Ashley, with Doug on her right, moved silently, further into the belly of the ship.

If the crew aboard was in distress, than surely there would've been a welcoming party or something, even if they were Alliance.

The smell of burnt flesh perforated her mask, making the Chief gag for a moment. Lowering her light, Ash found the source. Thirteen bodies, lined up in a neat row. Skin, hair, and other discernable features were burnt away to blackened chars. You couldn't tell who was male or female.

Hell, were these _humans?_

Doug turned away and waved Randy over. "Lieutenant Crowe? We got some bodies, sir. A lot of bodies."

The officer shook his head as he looked down at the mess. "Guns, Martz, and Alvarez secure a perimeter. Look for anyone else, survivors, hostiles, whatever. Scour every inch of this bay."

As his men dispersed, Randy turned back to the bodies. His eyes looked over each one, then darted the corner of the room. Empty fuel canisters, designed for a flamethrower. Grimacing, his green orbs rose to the ceiling to find a camera, overlooking the burnt corpses.

Ashley looked at her feet and shut her eyes. Only one prayer came to her mind… Hell, it didn't matter if they were Cerberus or not, they deserved _something_. Anything better than this.

_Our father, who art in heaven…_

"Williams, look over here." Randy ordered, interrupting the Chief's small prayer. "You see how these bodies are all lined up like this?"

"Yeah."

"Check out the corner over there, then up at the ceiling."

She looked to find fuel canisters, and then a camera.

_Oh god…_

"It looks like whoever boarded before us nabbed most of the crew and lined them up in front of the camera…" He held out his hands and acted like he was holding a large weapon, "And _whoosh. _Toasted them."

"Why?" Tank asked, staying silent among the horror until now.

Ash replied bitterly, "To show the crew on the bridge there's no hope. They were next."

Doug's voice rang out over the radio, _"Perimeter's clear, sir. Nothin' else in here. We found three doors nearby, they lead to engineering, crew quarters, and the bridge respectively."_

"Alright. Stay where you guys are, we're comin' to you." The Lieutenant nodded to the two marines next to him. "Come on. Let's hope there's someone still aboard."

They marched in silence to the far end of the bay, past large crates filled with whatever Cerberus carried around as a front. This was a disguised spy ship after all, so they had to play the part.

Taking charge, Randy already had the plan in his head. "Williams and Alvarez will head to engineering; see if we can get power back online. Martz and Tank will head for the crew quarters, search for survivors or bodies. Guns is with me, we'll head for the bridge, try to access any of the files on their mainframe." He sniffed and coughed, then continued, "Bad shit went down on this boat, I can tell you that much. Don't get complacent. Move out."

* * *

Her rifle led the way, its cold barrel pointing to any dark corner, checking for any sort of movement. Guns whispered, "Hallway clear."

Randy moved up, his hands tightly clenching his own rifle. His boots clanked against the deck as he approached what was supposed to be the door accessing the bridge. Tapping a finger against the controls, the door gave off a weak 'access denied' tone. Growling, the Lieutenant dropped to one knee and placed his rifle against the wall, activating his omni-tool.

Rising to her feet, Guns turned her back to the officer and slowly retreated towards him, rifle aimed down the same hall they just came from. A pungent odor had pierced their masks, and had become stronger the closer they came to the bridge. She couldn't resist calling out, "LT? You smell that?"

Ten whole seconds went by before Randy replied, "Yeah…_Varren _piss." He grunted as he deactivated his omni-tool, stood up, and took a full step back from the door panel, "We've been walking in it ever since we stepped onboard."

He raised his boot and drove it hard against the panel. Sparks flew, metal cracked, and circuits hollered in agony. The door slid open and Randy grinned.

_Screw hacking… _He thought to himself. _All you need is a boot._

Snatching up his gun, the Lieutenant scanned the darkened bridge, where only a few computer panels were online, providing a low orange hue. The stars outside the window, light-years away, didn't bring much comfort to two soldiers as they entered.

A muffled squishing replaced the clanking of their boots, and Guns looked down and gasped.

The floor… was _completely _covered in blood. Not coagulated either. Still _fresh._

Before she could say anything, Randy broke the eerie silence, his eyes also staring at the floor, "Start going through the bridge computers, Guns."

She didn't move at first, but Guns quickly acted upon the order and rushed for the computer.

Sighing, Randy shook his head and dropped back to a knee, not caring that this was someone's gore. He ran four fingers through the red substance. It ran off his fingers like water.

He spoke aloud as Guns sat down in the Captain's chair, not to anyone in particular, "Yeah… this was a varren attack. No flesh or bone left behind, just blood. Nothing tears someone up quite like one of those bastards." Flicking his hand, crimson splattered against the adjacent wall like paint. "You see how the blood is still runny, not all stiff and coagulated? That means…" He felt sick to his stomach, but this was probably the grim truth, "That whoever did this, fed the Captain to the varren, while he was still alive."

"Sir? Until Alvarez brings back up main power, I can't access the main files yet. But I think I can get the ship's security videos on. They run on a separate, backup generator."

Rising to his feet, the Lieutenant nodded. "Do it."

"Pulling up the security vids now… Remarkably weak encryption for a Cerberus vessel." Guns' fingers tapped across the holo-panels until she pulled up the first file. Randy appeared behind her as she started it.

The panel revealed a camera's view of the docking port, same one where their shuttle had connected to the Cerberus vessel.

A large group of armored humans and batarians appeared, weapons in their hands. Blue Suns insignias covered their armor. At least a dozen filled up the long hallway as two large batarians carried a plasma cutter rig towards the sealed door. Guns fast-forwarded the video until they cut through, and immediately these mercs stormed inside.

Guns switched cameras, the next being the cargo bay's. Thirteen crewmen, in Cerberus uniforms, were on there knees and lined up in a neat row, hands behind their heads. Four mercs had their shotguns pointed towards them, making sure they didn't move. A human with a flamethrower approached.

Randy's finger pointed to the corner of the screen. "Look."

Three varren sitting on their haunches, the grayish black skin over their legs were taught with large muscle, but ribs poked out near their torsos, showing these beasts were dangerously underfed. You _never _wanted to underfeed a varren.

Going forward in time again, Guns pulled up a screen of the Blue Suns leaving with multiple crates in tow, but no varren following them.

A loud growl resonated behind the two Alliance soldiers.

* * *

Tank opened the door to the first door he found and grinned. Beds… _real _beds. Not cots.

"Hey Doug!"

A muffled voice two rooms away called back, "Yeah?"

"Found something!"

The earthborn Texan appeared and whistled, "Hot damn! Cerberus gets everything don't they?"

Clipping his rifle over his back, Tank sat his large frame down on a bed, while Doug literally dove into the mattress across from his friend. They had checked the whole crew quarters, and found nothing, so they earned a bit of rest, right?

Sitting for a few minutes in silence, Tank finally spoke up. "Hey Doug? You know, that election's comin' up in a few days-"

"Terra Firma." The man butted in abruptly.

"What?"

"That's who I'm voting for." Doug nonchalantly stated. "Terra. Firma."

_Terra Firma? Really?_

"Those guys are a bunch of racists. They don't even want alien languages taught in school." Tank argued, citing what he read in an article about the political group.

"So?" Doug shrugged. "Those guys actually remembered my _name. _Other parties, whenever I get mail from 'em, it's just 'Hello Sir or Madam.' Terra Firma remembers me. I'm Douglas Terry Martz to them. I'm an individual, a person."

Tank couldn't believe this; Terra Firma was led by a bunch of pricks who thought discrimination was a better policy than at least trying to understand different cultures. Hell, Tank didn't trust asari or turians like they were kin, but he didn't outright think they were the enemy.

"So that's it then? Just because they remember your name?"

Doug grinned behind his mask, "Well no. They're also for retirement benefits for Alliance veterans. Even you can get behind that."

"Yeah…I _guess _I can." He replied, rubbing the back of his armored neck out of habit. "You ever miss our unit? Back with the 412?"

Behind his breathing mask, Doug couldn't show his friend any sort of expression, so he spoke with his hands as much as his voice, "The four-twelve? Hell yeah, dude. Every day."

"Who do you miss the most?"

Damn. That was big. Doug had made a ton of friends within the unit. "Uhhh, probably Mike, you know, the guy from Terra Nova. God that sumbitch was funny."

Tank grinned, "He was the guy who shoved a grenade underneath the Major's latrine, right?"

Doug's hearty laugh filled the room, "Yeah! He sent that porta-potty like thirty feet in the air. Major Herren was not happy when she found her favorite pit stop upside-down in a ditch… not one bit." He snorted as he sat up, "And Malory, good lord that woman was a babe. She had an ass that made even the other _women _in boot camp turn their heads."

It was jarring… to say the least, being dragged away from the unit they trained with like that. Tank missed a lot of those guys, and with their mission going on, who knew when they would get back to the 412, if ever.

"You know who I won't miss, though?" Doug continued.

"Who?"

"Drill Sergeant Becker and that Jacoby kid."

Drill Sergeant Becker was the devil incarnate, a man who ran on the souls of children and the blood of puppies. He was pure evil, forcing the whole 412 to do what he called a 'midnight fun run,' which consisted of marching in formation in full combat gear, through a dozen miles of hellish terrain ranging from swamps to mountains, at night.

But he made them marines, and Tank would always hold Becker in high respect. No matter how much he abused them, you could tell the old salt loved every single recruit, even when he socked you in the jaw.

Now Jacoby was a different story…He was just an asshole. That guy didn't get the whole 'teamwork' idea, always wanting to prove to everyone he was the best. Tank remembered a lovely speech from Becker to Jacoby.

'_War is a team sport, Jacoby! If you keep this 'I'm number one' bullshit up, then the only thing you'll be good at is catching bullets with your ass!' He grabbed the recruit by the neck and forced the man to look at his fellow comrades, 'Look at them! These are your teammates, your family. You help them, they help you, even if they think you're a dick.'_

Tank smiled. Jacoby straightened up a bit after that, but not by much.

Now it was Doug's turn to ask questions, "What do you think of our team right now?"

Shrugging, the large soldier responded quickly, "Randy seems like he knows what he's doing most of the time, 'cept for when he nearly took a railgun round to the chest. That Jane girl…I don't know. If she can nail right between the eyes from a mile and a half, by all means let her be here, but the way she just iced that Ulyat guy…"

Nodding back, the Texan finished, "I think the LT was in the right, keeping her off this run. You don't just blow some guy's head off, especially when we needed him alive."

"What about the others?"

Doug whistled and leaned back, "Gordon seems like a cool kid. Pretty quiet though, keeps to himself. But a guy with those tech skills has gotta have some interesting stories." His thoughts went to the other two females within the squad, "Guns is all right, surprised she isn't an officer. I wanna know where she got those nasty scars, though. And that Chief Williams, good lord she's hot."

Tank rolled his eyes, "Is that all you ever think about?"

"What?" Doug feigned offense. "I can't appreciate how well put together she is? I wouldn't mind having a piece of that, too bad Shepard's probably already hit that." He paused, and then grinned at Tank.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"Saw you talking to her a couple times now…Does she, you know, got a _thing _for her old CO?"

Returning the grin, Tank replied curtly, "She recites poetry of love and loss and the background on her holo-pad is a picture of Shepard himself, what do you think?"

"Damn." Doug snapped his fingers. "Guess I'll to go for Guns then…"

"You're a pig."

* * *

Gordon grunted and ripped of his helmet. Cool air touched his sweaty skin, fresh oxygen filled his lungs. He took a seat on a crate next to the power core and started to tap away on his omni-tool.

"I think you should put your helmet back on." Ash warned, who was in a crouch, facing the entrance with a rifle in her hands.

"The air's clean, Chief. I can't work in that thing anyways, too cramped. I need to _breathe_." Gordon groaned as he accessed the energy drives, hoping to get this ship working again.

The Operations Chief shrugged as she lowered her rifle. No need to make a big deal of the thing, there were the only ones in this part of the ship anyways. Her eyes began to wander as Gordon began to get into his thing, and they found several Cerberus logos decorating the area. If there was one thing this organization loved to do, it was put its logo on _everything._

Boxes, computers, weapons, the walls, you name it.

"Ooooooo, firewalls." Gordon feigned being impressed as he tapped away with a smile. "_Scary._"

Ash turned and spoke up, "How long've you been with the Alliance, Gordon?"

He looked up, his fingers still mechanically tapping away on his omni-tool. "About five years next month, why?"

"Nearly five years? But you're only a Private. Why haven't you been promoted?" Ash asked worriedly. Her dad spent years in the Alliance, and he never made it past Serviceman Third Class.

The techie merely stated, "Not interested in rank. I'm here to do my job, that's about it. Never wanted to lead, didn't have that appeal to me. My job is to hack things, get things working, or get things to _stop _working. Don't need to command a platoon to do that."

Fair enough. Ashley turned back and asked again, "Then why join the Alliance at all, there are plenty of non-military jobs that would suit your skills, and probably provide a bigger payout."

Gordon's fingers stopped moving, and his fist clenched. "Let's just say I've had some 'experiences' that made me choose a military career."

"Like?"

He shifted nervously as his eyes fell to his boots. This was obviously a touchy subject, but Ash wanted to know. No point in being second in command if you didn't get to know your men.

"My dad…was a real _cabrón, _an asshole." Gordon started out, his eyes turning back to the glowing tool around his palm. He pressed a thumb down, and the lights returned to the freighter, the power cores hummed as they came to life. "He pushed me into learning about computers, more specifically, their security systems. Dad _used _me to steal credits for him when I didn't know any better. I thought I was just helping the family out. Boy, what a bastard that guy was."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his father's rough drawl began to fill his head again.

"_Here comes the next one. Try to keep up with it this time, you nearly lost the last one."_

"_This is the eighth one, papa. I need a break."_

_The man's large fist wrapped around his child's collar, lifting the boy off the ground. Pure venom was in his voice, "Do you want to go hungry? You want your mother to get sick again?"_

_The boy could barely sputter a word, tears already dripping from his eyes. Relenting, he let the child go and ordered, "Get back to the terminal, here comes the next string of data."_

Gordon sniffed as his the harsh words of his father subsided. He exhaled, not realizing he was holding his breath in. "A cop caught us one night, and my dad pulled a knife on him. Cop shot him dead, right in front of me."

Ashley couldn't respond at first. "…I'm so sorry."

"_Don't be._" Gordon shakily replied. "My dad getting shot that night was the best thing that ever happened to me. _Madre_ straightened me out real quick, and hell, she was happy to be rid of the man." He paused and then whispered, "But every night, she still cried for him, and even _she _didn't know why."

"But still, you lost your _father_. That must've been hard." The Operations Chief tried to soothe, but the techie didn't want any of it.

"Maybe. But trust me, if he was still around, I wouldn't be here. I'd either be dead or in prison." He shrugged as he got to his feet. "My _madre_ took me to a good school, where the encouraged my talents for all the right reasons, and when _madre _passed, I joined the Alliance. Hoping I could make a difference, like she had for me. A few years later, and boom, here I am, telling you my life story."

Opening her mouth to reply, a loud snap grabbed her immediate attention. Then a growl. Not a dog's, but something _big._

Gordon grabbed his pistol and hissed, "I got this…"

Approaching the door, the techie lifted his weapon and slowly opened it. A grayish-black mass slammed into his chest, the man barely got his left arm up in time to block most of the blow. Then a wildfire of pain lit across his forearm as a large weight dragged the human to the ground.

A varren's teeth sunk into Gordon's left arm, inciting spurts of red blood and screams of agony. It thrashed its large head back and forth as it growled in glee, tasting blood.

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

Ashley charged and drove her boot right into the beast's large eye socket.

It squealed and released its vice on the Private as it tumbled backward, but it quickly got back to its feet and turned its attention to the woman, blood dripping from its maw.

Raising her rifle, Ash yanked back on the trigger. Hot slugs ripped into the beast, orange blood spattered across the deck as the beast stumbled and fell. The Chief was then at the injured Private's side. "How bad is it?"

Teeth gritted, the techie forced a grin as he clamped down on his bloddy arm, "Just a flesh wound, right?"

A sharp bark cut off Ash's reply. Another varren was charging down the hall, straight for them.

Before the Chief could grab her gun again, Gordon's arm lit up bright orange and the door shut, the safeties disengaged. The metal portal snapped shut, right as the head of the beast was passing through. Bone cracked loudly, and the beast froze, teeth set in a permanent snarl.

With the assistance of his partner, Gordon climbed to his feet. "And that's why…I'm a _cat _person."

* * *

"Shoot it, damn it!"

"I can't! You're in the way!" Guns screamed back, her superior literally holding a rabid varren at by, its jaws snapping at the Lieutenant, hoping to tear out his windpipe. Her fingers tightened around the trigger of her shotgun as her skin lit ablaze with biotics, but as long as Randy held the animal, she was useless.

"Screw this!" Randy spat as he swung with all his might, tossing the varren a good eight or nine feet away.

Adding to the throw, Guns threw out her hand, sending a wave of energy over the varren. The beast howled helplessly as it simply began to float in the air, defying Newton's Laws. Chunks were ripped away from its emaciated torso as a shotgun fired, killing the beast.

Out of breath, Randy put his hands on his knees, sucking in as much air as he could.

"Damn fine work, Guns." He glanced at the beast, then back at the woman, also out of breath. "Damn fine."

The lights above brightened up, and the bridge computer's hummed with new life.

Holstering her shotgun, Guns slid back into the Captain's seat and began to go through the dozens of files within the hard drives. "Pulling up surveillance files they had on the _Normandy_. They couldn't properly encrypt these files before the Blue Suns came, though."

"Everyone regroup on the bridge immediately." Randy ordered over the radio as he looked at the screens of data.

The Cerberus spies tracked down Shepard's captors as they high-tailed away from the _Normandy_, and just before the turian vessels disappeared into FTL travel, they launched and attached a spy drone to the lead ship.

They took the Commander to an uncharted system within the Traverse, on some backwater desert planet, after going through a complex maze of mass relays. And now, Randy and his little squad had _everything._

"Chief Williams?"

"_Yes sir?"_

"Get your ass up here. We know where Shepard is."

* * *

Peace.


	8. When a Plan Comes Together Part 1

When a Plan Comes Together Part 1

* * *

**Five Days after Commander Shepard's Arrival to the Last Dawn Penitentiary.**

The hostile batarian stumbled back, blood dripping from the slits on his face that were his nostrils. His greenish skin was covered in bruises, but he held up well to a beating. A silly little grin showed his stained black teeth, and the alien raised a hand in a 'come on' gesture.

The human fared just as worse as the alien did, his ribs were crying with pain and he tasted blood after a hard hook to his cheek.

Cracking his knuckles, Shepard managed a weak laugh. This guy had balls, but he didn't have a brain. It was this batarian that decided to confront the Commander, for whatever reason. Probably just didn't like humans, but regardless, the alien threw the first punch. Needless to say, the human threw one right back, and now this had happened.

A crowd of inmates had gathered around them, most cheering for the batarian, others just sitting back and watching with grins on their faces. Some even placed bets.

The guards seemed they couldn't care less, as they remained at their posts, weapons remaining in their holsters.

_Probably put this guy up to this…_Shepard thought grimly to himself.

The alien charged, a fist flew up. The human's arm diverted the blow, and he countered with a knee to the batarian's gut, followed by a hard shove, sending the prisoner backwards.

He was caught by a waiting krogan, who practically threw the batarian back into the fight. Stumbling forward, the alien grunted, trying to catch himself.

Shepard never gave him the chance. The Commander's hands shot out, wrapping around the left forearm of the alien and twisted his body, back now facing the batarian. Yanking downward and kicking one leg back, Shepard bent low as he threw the batarian over his shoulder, using the now-increased momentum as he slammed him into the ground.

Years of hand-to-hand training screamed in the Commander's head, telling him to go for the kill, but he hesitated…long enough for the batarian's foot to shoot up and catch the human's forehead.

A flash of white pain blinded Shepard as he stumbled back, letting the batarian scramble back to his feet. His four black eyes zeroed in on the human as he growled, "I've had enough of this…"

In his left hand a shining combat blade appeared. Not a prison-made shank, but a turian combat knife.

_The guards did put him up to this._

Charging yet again, the batarian slashed with his weapon. Shepard wasn't able to dodge in time, and the sharp tip cut across his chest, right through his jumpsuit. Blood immediately dribbled from the new gash, and the crowd cheered in amusement, finally getting to see a good amount of blood.

Clutching his chest, Shepard backed up as much as he could, putting the most amount of distance between him and the armed enemy. The thick, three-fingered hand of a krogan grabbed his jumpsuit, and _lifted _Shepard off the ground, "Fight, coward!"

And he was simply tossed forward again, right towards the waiting batarian.

A flash of light, and the blade's sharpened edge approached yet again. The Spectre dropped low and rolled, dodging the blow.

_Dodge._

Adrenaline began to fade, and pain began to surface across Shepard's torso, but he ignored it as he climbed back to his feet. Most wouldn't stop attacking you just because you were hurting a little bit. Feigning enjoyment, Shepard gave his enemy a smirk.

_Beckon._

The smile returned to the batarian, and with it, another series of slashes. Shepard leaned back just as the tip came towards his face, as if the alien wanted to gouge an eye out.

_Counter._

Shooting up, Shepard's left hand grabbed the inmate's hand that held the blade and yanked it aside, making the alien stumble again. His right elbow came up, smashing the batarian right between his two top eye sockets. The knife fell from his hand as he fell backwards. Reacting, Spectre grabbed the weapon in midair by the handle and pounced on the hostile alien, now on the floor. He pressed the blade against the prisoner's throat.

_Victory._

"Do it, human." The batarian spat, his hot breath smacked the Commander right in the face. "Finish it."

Shepard threw the knife aside and smiled again, "Not worth it."

Guards finally sprung to action, shoving aside thralls of people and approached Shepard as he stood up, still standing over the batarian.

The first turian dropped his boot on the batarian's throat, while the second drove the butt of his shotgun into the back of Shepard's skull. He blacked out just before he hit the floor.

* * *

Kilhai Farrax leaned in his chair as he watched two Talons drag an unconscious human in. They propped him up in a seat across his desk and as he dismissed them, Farrax noticed Shepard slowly start to awaken.

"You know how to cause trouble, don't you, Commander?"

Shepard's hand flew to the back of his head, to find a large bruise starting to grow. "I'm not the one who started the fight, Captain Farrax. Plus the inmate had a knife on him."

"I wouldn't be surprised. These are _killers _after all."

"No," Shepard grunted as he looked up, anger burning in his eyes, "Not some cheap shank, but a combat blade, probably from one of your guards."

Shrugging, Farrax just gave a smug grin.

"If you want me dead, why don't you just shoot me, Farrax?"

The turian's eye twitched, and he didn't respond at first. He stared blankly for a moment, as if _something _was whispering in his ear. "Because…I don't want you dead, Shepard. In fact, you were wanted by a very powerful group of people, and I _was _supposed to deliver you to them."

"Why didn't you?"

An expression of pain flashed across Farrax's scarred face, his jaw muscles clenched as his fists clenched. As if_ something _was almost hurting him.

He finally responded, "A greater need arose. But I've already told you too much. You are here now, and I've cut ties with my former business associates."

Shepard was sick of this man's constant sandbagging. He had been kidnapped and whisked away from his crew, forced to spend five days in a hellhole, and now he was being told off like a child? _No. _He wanted answers. Standing up, Shepard slammed a fist against Farrax's desk, only to be met with the barrel of a pistol aimed right between his eyes.

The smug grin returned to Farrax's lips as he kicked his feet up on the furniture, his hand still tightly gripped the gun. "Don't push me, human. You are alive because _they_ wish it. I could end you in an instant.

Shepard was taken aback for a moment. "Who's 'they?' If not whoever hired you, then who?"

Farrax's heart began to race; sweat began to form across his brow. Dull pain began to race up the base of his spine.

_Oh spirits, anything but that again._

He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. The faintest of whispers began to call at the back of his head, making their presence known. Finally responding, the Captain growled, "_Leave. _Now."

"Who's they?" Shepard pressed again, refusing to move despite the fact Farrax slowly began to press on the trigger. Two guards entered the room.

"Leave!"

The two guards grabbed the Commander by each arm and forcibly drag him out of the office. But Shepard kept pressing, "Who put you up to this? Who!"

As the door closed, Farrax pitched his pistol across the room and screamed, his clawed fingers flew to the top of his head. The pain had subsided, but not the _feeling _of _it _being there. His own mind being invaded. Being used.

It was sickening.

* * *

Once Shepard was forced back in with the rest of the population, he quickly found Zaael, waiting in the corner.

"Saw the fight," he commented coolly. "You okay?"

"Just dandy." Shepard grunted back as he stood next to his friend, the frustration apparent, "Get in contact with Carrick and the others. Tell them I want their men in position, right now."

Zaael nodded to Tarlan and Ferrin, who had been waiting nearby. They immediately disappeared.

"So… today's the day, huh?"

Shepard nodded back. "Today's the day we get out."

* * *

**SSV **_**Chicago**_**. In Formation with ****Fifth Fleet.**

Captain Drescher looked back and explained to Randy, who was still staring at the lines of data in front of the screen. "So far, our techs have managed to pick up enough information to show us what were up against." He rubbed the back of his neck while turning back to the screen, "It's, uh, not exactly our usual sort."

Randy looked at the _Chicago's _commander, "What do you mean?"

The tech sitting in the chair in front of the screens, turned his head and nonchalantly explained, "Apparently, the people who nabbed your man were special forces of the turian _military_. They call themselves the Black Talons, and their achievement list is… What's the word I'm looking for? _Gargantuan._"

Randy rolled his eyes, "I'm shaking in my boots."

Turning back to the screen, the tech shrugged, "Whatever. Anyways, these guys help run this compound." The lists of data disappeared, to show a desert planet. "This planet is called Kalgha, basically a desert where the average temperature is over one-hundred and eight. Over five hundred regular guards keep this facility under control, on top of that, roughly _one thousand _Black Talons at any one time."

Good god. One thousand? Randy's heart skipped a beat when he heard that, "Why need so many?"

Waving his hand, the tech explained, "Well, the prisoner to non-prisoner ratio is astounding. Think about twenty-five to one. These guys hold _tens _of thousands criminals, if anything, there should be more of these guys down there."

"Going back to the point," Drescher guided everyone back to the original conversation, "these so-called Talons are turian military. Practically the Hierarchy's Spectres. That means if we enter there system with the entire Fifth Fleet, this could spark a galactic incident. Hell, maybe a war."

_Politics…_ Randy clenched his jaw. _I __hate__ politics._

"That means if we get clearance from Hackett," the Captain continued, "we're going in with only minimal numbers through that maze of relays, and see if we can't negotiate for Shepard's return, _if _he's even there."

"What do you mean 'if,' sir?" Randy questioned as he turned to the CO.

Sighing, Drescher looked at the young Lieutenant with tired eyes. "Shepard might not be there, or Shepard's been dead for years, and we've been tracking down the wrong guy."

"Sir, you've read Chief Williams' report from Horizon, she _met _Shepard." Randy countered, surprised at the man's words.

Drescher shook his head, "It could've been anyone. Today, technology allows us to change the way we look, the way we sound, the way we _act_. Who's to say it isn't some creep fan-boy pretending to try and make a difference, huh?"

"That's highly unlikely, sir."

The Captain merely shrugged, "Well until I see Shepard in the flesh, and _know _it's him, I'll be holding my breath."

He understood where Drescher was coming from. Even with the reports that Shepard was alive, many still didn't believe it completely. After two years dead, many didn't buy the whole 'he's back to save the day' story. Until recently, Randy was one of those people.

Bringing up schematics to a mass relay, the tech in the chair spoke up again, "This is the first mass relay we'd have to go through, turians call it the 'Oraka Gateway,' named after one of their famous generals. It's on the edges of the Traverse, and it leads to what I call a 'mass intersection' after that." He brought up a new panel, showing several other relays, pointing in different directions, "They all lead to new systems, but we've managed to secure the proper path."

Drescher finished up, "We've set course for the relay. Estimated time of arrival is four hours. Dismissed, Lieutenant Crowe."

Randy nodded and snapped of a crisp salute, which Drescher returned before heading to the _Chicago's _galaxy map. As Randy turned to leave, he found Ashley waiting for him by the door.

"Sir." The Chief nodded and saluted, one that Randy quickly returned, "Can we talk?"

"Sure thing, follow me, Chief." Randy beckoned as he passed through the door and made his way down the halls of the cruiser, Ash next to him. "What is it?"

Sighing, the woman bluntly stated, "It's Jane. I _don't _like the way you handled her like that, sir."

"She could've blown my head off, Chief," Randy threw a hand up. "Not to mention she disobeyed a direct order to _not_, and let me repeat myself, _not _shoot Kurran Ulyat. But there she was, shooting away, right in front of me."

"Did she ever tell you why, sir?" Ash pressed, as the image of the mother and her child came to mind.

"I don't need a reason. She. Shot. Him." Randy replied coldly as he entered an empty elevator and selected a deck. "The Alliance wanted him alive to find out if there were other corrupt militias on Eden Prime. Without him, they'll have to figure it all out the hard way. Jane Hartford is lucky she doesn't end up with a court-martial."

Ash grabbed the Lieutenant's shoulder and looked at him with hard eyes, "Talk to her, Lieutenant. She's probably the best sniper I've ever seen, and we can't afford to sideline her like that."

"I don't think that's necessary, Chief. I-"

Growling, Ash's hand tightened around his shoulder, "Then listen to me! She saw a young mother and her kids crying in front of the body of the dad, killed by one of Ulyat's militia! I don't know about you, but I was pissed off when I saw Ulyat too. And you better believe that I wanted to put a round through his skull as well."

Randy replied that it didn't excuse her actions, and Ashley growled again, "At least try to understand why she did it, _sir_."

The elevator halted at deck eight, where their crew quarters were located. Randy nodded outside, "You comin' with?"

"No, sir." Ash replied, her voice respectful, but you could _feel _the bitterness behind it. "Heading down to the armory, clean my gear."

* * *

"How the hell does this happen?" Guns mumbled as she wiped the gunk that almost _dripped _from the ejection port of her shotgun. Apparently, the thermal clip that was supposed to be ejected snapped in half when doing so. The remaining half was jammed inside the weapon and smoldered, leaving an ashy mess inside the weapon. It was going to take more than just one cloth to clean this thing.

"That's why I don't trust those models."

The Gunnery Chief turned in her chair, placing her weapon back on the workbench to find Ashley marching into the armory. "Hey, Ash."

"How you doing, Kendra?"

Guns didn't hear her first name a lot. It was…refreshing. "I'm all right. Just working with this piece of crap gun. 'Terran Dynamics makes the best weaponry' my ass."

Grabbing her rifle from the quartermaster, Ash took a seat next to Guns and grinned, "They usually have better rifles than shotguns, though."

The pair carried on conversation as Ashley began to strip down her rifle, disassembling the weapon for closer inspection. It was mostly clean, but it had been awhile since she last stripped it down, so she might as well keep at it. Better safe than sorry.

Guns had more in common with Ashley than she first thought. She came from a military family, long line of Marines, which was no surprise. Guns had two brothers and four sisters; she was the oldest of all of the sisters, who were still in high school or middle school. Her eldest brother, Derrick, is a C-Sec officer, been one for six years. The other one, Kaleb, was a Marine as well, serving aboard the recently built SSV _Aconcagua._

She tried to keep in contact with all of them as often as she could, knowing how bad it could get being a cop or marine.

"Dad lost a leg while out on a patrol a couple years," Guns added as she wiped away more of the crap that resided inside her gun, "and was forced to work in the private sector. He's been taking care of the girls, since mom was killed…" Her hands froze and no more words came.

Ash quickly changed the subject, not wanting to upset the usually calm Gunnery Chief. But she knew what it was like to lose a parent, her own dad dead. It was a subject she rarely touched her ownself.

Shoving a cleaning rod down the barrel of her rifle, Ash asked the woman next to her, "So, what happened to Marta and that Jenkins kid?"

Closing her eyes, Guns could see the wounded marine on the ground, holes riddled his armor. There was blood, a _lot _of blood.

"Marta got reassigned, along with most of the garrison to serve on some ship within the Fifth Fleet, can't remember which one." She paused as her mind went back to Jenkins, "Sam…_Jenkins _is receiving treatment for his wounds. They say the medi-gel I gave him saved him in the nick of time, two seconds later, and he would've been a deadman."

"Do you know if he'll ever serve again?"

Just shrugging, Guns put her weapon down, "They wouldn't tell me, but that probably means no. I…try to call him whenever I can. He deserves that much."

* * *

**Comm Room, **_**Normandy **_**SR-2.**

"_Proper vocational code required, please report to your nearest officer or technical advisor for assitance."_

Garrus sighed as he stared at the holographic figure in front of him. A virtual female turian in simple combat armor stood before him, speaking to him in calm voice. "I'm going to ask again. Access the coordinates for the Oraka Gateway."

Yet again, the VI denied Garrus access. Overcome with frustration, the cop didn't notice Kasumi Goto appear next to him. "Still giving you trouble, I presume?"

"Yeah." He replied, raking his talons along the base of his neck. "This thing keeps demanding a vocational code. I'll go get Commander Falan then. Bastard better not have lied to us."

"No need. While you up her interrogating 'her,' I spent a little quality time with the Commander down in the cargo bay. He is an interesting man, tormented by his past, though. Kind of sad." She raised her omni-tool to her lips, and when they moved, Falan's voice came out, "_VI, access restricted file eight-one-six-three. Full clearance, priorty black._"

"_Yes, Commander. Accesing navigational coordinates now… Done."_

Garrus looked towards EDI's pedestal, "All yours."

The AI's voice filled the speakers. She had been annoyed by this foreign prescence within her systems. _"Downloading to navigations now. Garrus, what do you plan on doing with this VI? Deletion, perhaps?"_

Holding back a grin, the turian deactivated the VI. "No, not yet. You two should make friends, EDI."

"_The probability of that is rather low, Garrus." _EDI grumbled back, incinting a chuckle from Kasumi. The AI groaned again as the navigation download was completed, _"Coordinates set. Do you wish to proceed?"_

"Take us to the Oraka Gateway, EDI. Full speed."

"_Acknowledged. ETA is four hours."_

* * *

They just hit full speed. Tali could feel it in her stomach, the slightest shift, the tiniest jostle in the inertia dampener. It was faint, but it was there. On Flotilla ships, the acceleration was more _noticeable, _to say the least. But she had gotten used to the _Normandy_ and couldn't imagine living normally on a Fleet vessel again.

Her long fingers tapped away on the console in front of her, making sure the drive core's power stayed within tolerable levels. Glancing to her right, she saw Gabby and Ken working at their own terminals, right next to each other. Gabby was pretty shaken up after the _Normandy_, hitting her head pretty hard. Chakwas said she was to stay off her duties for a few days, but the engineer refused to leave her post after she was patched up.

Tali was glad to have them around, their constant, playful bickering kept her sufficiently entertained.

"Zorah."

The quarian machinist turned to find Miranda standing behind her, arms crossed over her chest, standing tall. Her stance screamed 'I'm better than you.' A chill traced up Tali's spine. If there was one thing the 'perfect' Cerberus Officer didn't lack, it was a superiority complex.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"We need to talk." She ordered as she stared right through the quarian's visor and into her silver eyes.

Ken looked up from his station, as did Gabby. The woman barely came down here, let alone converse with any of the aliens onboard.

Leaning against the terminal and crossing her own arms, Tali cocked her head to the side, "What about?"

Miranda held her gaze, "I need to know you'll keep your head on straight once we find Shepard and the people who took him. Think you can do that for me?"

"Excuse me?" Tali straightened up, arms on her hips. "What is _that _supposed to mean?"

The officer's voice was like a cold knife, "You had every chance to kill Farrax before he got to Shepard, but you didn't. I want to make sure when it comes down to it, you'll pull the trigger if needed."

"Don't you _dare_!" Tali's finger rose. "Shepard took my gun and I was ordered to stand down! If it was my call, I would have shot that _bosh'tet_ the moment he stepped onboard." The quarian didn't notice Miranda's hand sliding down her leg, inching towards her pistol, just in case. "So don't you _dare_ come down here and question whether I'm in the right frame of mind or not!"

Taking a step forward, Tali continued her onslaught, anger pent up for days unleashing on the human in front of her. "Trust me when I tell you, _Miranda_-"

A grin that formed on the officer's face stopped the furious quarian in the middle of her yelling.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing." Miranda said, smirk still creasing her cheeks. "Just making sure you're not getting soft on us."

With that, she about-faced and sauntered out of the room, leaving Tali just standing there in shock. The two engineers couldn't believe that she was just screwing with the quarian.

_Keelah. I'm going to kill her._

"Good god," Ken muttered. "I knew Miranda wasn't the kindest member aboard but that…that was just a bitch move."

* * *

"_One minute until we disengage FTL drives. Recommend we activate stealth systems."_

Joker grunted back a reply to EDI, one hand tapping away commands on his terminal, the other scratching away, his fingers trying to dig underneath his cast. Damn itching wouldn't quit, not even after a few days. His eyes rose to the screen, showing the stealth systems were running, everything in the green. Bringing both hands to the monitor, Joker turned his head to see Garrus, and a restrained Commander Falan, behind him.

"You ready there, Garrus?"

The turian's gray eyes found the pilot's, "I'm always _ready…_I want Falan here to be, though. Think you can do that for me, huh?" He shook Falan's shoulder playfully, inciting a growl from the Black Talon.

"Touch me again, boy, and I'll tear you a new asshole."

"_Dropping into normal space in three…two…one."_

Everyone lurched forward as the _Normandy _decelerated into. Distorted purple waves of energy that filled the windows gave way to the usual inky blackness, with billions of white stars that dotted it like a canvas reappearing.

Joker calmly glanced out the window to his left, to find at least a dozen other vessels waiting. Warships. His eyes went wide as he opened his mouth to bark an order to EDI, only to have the AI cut him off.

"_Multiple starships detected. Affiliation: Systems Alliance Navy. A large portion of Fifth Fleet. I detect one carrier, two dreadnoughts, five cruisers, fourteen frigates, and dozens of fighter patrols. Do not be alarmed, Jeff. We are too far for a visual and they did not detect us coming out of FTL travel. The __**Normandy**__ has not been picked up on their scanners."_

Breathing a long sigh of relief, Joker carefully cracked his knuckles and picked up the usual Alliance frequency. Sure, it was encrypted, but the pilot learned a few tricks to get past them over the years, mostly so he could access illicit sites via the extranet. It would take a minute for his hack to work, so he turned to EDI and asked why she thought the Alliance was here.

"_It seems to me, Mister Moreau," _she started in her usual icy tone, _"that the Alliance has the same idea we do. They want Shepard back."_

The first voice that came up over the radio was husky and drone-like, the usual voice for a tired helmsman. _"This is the frigate __**Marathon**__.__All units, be advised. The Oraka Gateway is nonfunctional, I repeat, nonfunctional. Without the proper access codes, that relay won't be opening up."_

A different voice, _"This is the cruiser __**Damascus**__. I can confirm that. The mass relay is offline, over."_

_What the? _

"EDI, bring up the bow cameras. I wanna see this for myself."

Without saying a word, the AI brought up the requested cameras, and Joker shook his head. The almost tweezer-like mass relay that was supposed to be their ticket to Shepard wasn't open for business. The blue ball of element zero was dark, the gyrating rings that stabilized the core frozen in place. One could barely make it out against the dark background without it working.

Garrus' hand flew to Falan's throat and he slammed him against the wall. The former cop screamed in the Talon's face. "You told me we could just fly on through! What the hell are you trying to pull?"

Struggling against the restraints that dug into his wrists, Falan grunted back, "I'm not pulling anything! You need to recite the Rite to the VI that controls this relay."

"What is the Rite?" Garrus questioned, the grip on turian's throat lossened, but not by much.

"It's what every Talon recites. It's what makes us…us."

Letting go, Garrus shoved him to the front, ordering him to open the gateway. Straigtening himself to a more proper stance, Falan lifted his head and respectfully requested, "Miss…?"

"_EDI, Commander Falan." _The AI answered kindly.

"Yes, EDI. Could you be so kind and open up frequency one-nine-nine-five?"

A simple set of beeps, and then EDI informed the turian it was set. Clearing his throat, Falan closed his eyes and let his mind drift back. Back to the day he was intiated. Just a few hours after he literally shaved the tattoos off his face.

"We are Black Talons." The words came back to him. The rush of knowledge filled the Commander's brain. He remembered the several others in that room, reciting the Rite alongside him. Dozens of hearts, beating as one. Dozens of voices, all one.

"One unit. One Spirit. We shall fight as one for the greater good, the good of the turian people, and the good of the galaxy. Black Talons are the tip of the spear and the brunt of the shield. We fight for the weak and impoverished, the ones unable to defend themselves. Through this Rite, we swear to uphold the values of honor, brotherhood, and the ever-present call of duty."

"We are one. We are Black Talons." He fell silent, out of breath.

EDI chimed in, _"Relay is powering up. Starting approach run."_

* * *

**Aboard Alliance Carrier SSV **_**Socrates**_**, Bridge**_**.**_

"_Admiral Hackett. My team's aboard the __**Khe Sanh**__, just as you requested." _Randy's voice was slightly distorted over the radio, but the signal held. _"How many others are being sent through the relay, sir?"_

Hackett marched towards the forward obsevation deck, his eyes found the inactive relay. "Once that thing opens up, it'll be you and the frigates _Marathon, Yorktown, _and _Thermopylae. _We don't want to start a war with these turians; we're already getting enough crap from the batarians."

"_Sir, four frigates? That'll only give us…" _Randy paused as he did the calculations in his head. _"That'll give us roughly only seven hundred marines, at most. Reports that these guys could have thousands."_

"Hopefully it won't come to that." The Admiral sighed.

"_If these guys forcefully kidnapped Commander Shepard, then I highly doubt they'll hand him over if we say please." _

"Can't risk an incident, and I won't send half of the Fifth Fleet in there unless it is truly necessary. That's final, Lieutenant."

* * *

**SSV **_**Khe Sanh.**_

Flight Lieutenant Yuri Mikovich tapped away at his console, but his eyes kept glancing back at the people who occupied the bridge. Six people, three men, three women. They were tagging along with them at the Admiral's request, and Yuri didn't like outsiders on his boat.

He had a tough enough time getting along with everyone aboard the _Khe Sanh_, but now with even more people onboard? He didn't like it. It didn't help that the leader of this small group, known as Lieutenant Crowe, was given 'tactical command' of the frigate _Khe Sanh. _The pilot could tell that Captain Kortus didn't like it one bit, and if the Captain didn't like something, then by default, the pilot didn't like it either.

"Mikovich? Status on the relay."

Yuri shot a look at his screen. "Not at thing. _Nechevo._"

Randy turned back to his men and spoke aloud. Yuri could hear every word.

"I don't like this at all. Being sent in with just seven hundred men and a few frigates? Not good."

_This is a damn good frigate, _Yuri spat back in his mind. _How about I just launch you out the airlocks, and see how much you don't like my baby then._

The female next to him, referred to as 'Ash' or 'Chief Williams' added, "Well that's what we got, LT. Unless shit hits the fan, then we won't get much backup."

His console beeped, forcing Yuri's eyes to come back to his station. The relay… it was coming _online._

Navigator Willis beat Yuri to the punch, "Sir! Relay is activating!"

Yuri saw the smallest of movements as he squinted at the image, so he enhanced and enlarged it. Randy gasped behind him.

"That's the _Normandy!_" He pressed a finger to his ear, "Admiral! Are you seeing this?"

"_Roger. All frigates, move for the relay and follow that ship! Repeat, hit that relay!"_

Yuri grinned as his hands flew down the controls and throttled the engines; the new momentum forced him into his seat. The relay's blue ball of element zero lit up like a light bulb, and archs of blue lightning surrounded the _Normandy_. It the literally catapulted the Cerberus frigate into deep space.

_Now it's my turn._

Flaring the _Khe Sanh's _engines again, Yuri could almost feel the electricity as the frigate was enveloped in blue energy.

* * *

Kilhai Farrax stared into his computer deeply, checking each report from every relay in the Traverse. Nothing. For the eighteenth time, there was nothing. But it called out to him, at the back of his brain, telling him to look some more, and he protested.

_Unnecessary. Multiple reports unneeded._

The thralls at the base of his spine tightened, its thunderous voice racked his brain.

**You will look again. Scan more. We demand it to be done.**

Farrax rose to his feet with a growl as he turned to the small mirror he kept on the wall to his left. He glared at his reflection, and his growl turned into a rumble. _It _was in his eyes, _it _in his brain, _it _was becoming _him_. Taking him over. He flared back at the thralls as he stared at his reflection.

_How about I just let Shepard free, maybe he'll do the damn scans for you!_

Fire rushed up his spine, Farrax gave a muffled cry of agony as a response.

**You will ****obey! **

_You__will listen!_

Farrax felt the thralls loosen, as if surprised at his protests, but they tightened even harder.

_Shepard shouldn't be here! He's a damned hero! Why do you need him?_

Its voice was harsh in his mind. Mechanical, even. His resistance began to fade, slowly being chipped away.

**Ask not what our will is. For the return is forthcoming, the cycle will ****not**** be broken. Return to your duties.**

Farrax turned towards his desk, his muscles had betrayed him. New images flashed across his vision, even as his former self protested loudly.

_Fight it, please! You're Kilhai Farrax, not some puppet! Fight it!_

But the turian refused to listen to one half of his shattered mind as he went to the computer, starting the nineteenth relay scan.

Several new pings on the radar, enemy ships…within _their _system.

* * *

Peace.


	9. When a Plan Comes Together Part 2

When a Plan Comes Together Part 2

* * *

"_Damn it! We got about a dozen fights going on. All units within sector six immediately move to quell the situations, now!"_

With Tarlan at his side, Zaael glanced to his left. The two guards had left their post in front of the main doors of the security station, moving downstairs, where a group of five krogan were providing the distraction down below. Turning his head, Zaael could see Ferrin down below, working his hands into a wall panel in a secluded corner. The quarian below stuck out his stubby thumb, where he lost half of it in a knife fight, showing it to the waiting Zaael above.

"That's it." He nodded somberly, "Go go go!"

Tarlan darted to the now unlocked door to the security station, Zaael at his heels. Both quarians entered to find two security technicians sitting in seats, their backs to the intruding aliens. When the door shut behind them, both prisoners pounced. Tarlan drew his blade, while Zaael simply approached and snapped the man's neck with his bare hands.

It felt good to kill one of these cruel bastards. At least, that's what Tarlan felt. Six years of this shit and he finally got back at one of these guys.

Zaael felt nothing as the now-dead techie fell out of his seat and onto the floor. He didn't enjoy killing. It was only means to an end, to him. Without getting too philosophical, the quarian slid into the seat, Tarlan doing the same. Their long fingers went to work, opening up the security systems.

"We're in." Tarlan grunted with satisfaction. "Going through defense measures, see if I can block them out."

Zaael nodded as he prepared for the onslaught of counter-measures that were sure to come. Each station had a regular checkup scan every two minutes or so, meaning that once the guards found out one of their stations went dark, they'd try to lock it out. The quarian was going to make sure that didn't happen.

"Focus on the air filters first, make sure we can lock down this wing. I don't feel like running out of oxygen."

"I got it, I got it." Tarlan dismissed. He had already locked down the filters for this wing, ensuring breathable air for the next few hours at least. Internal VIs had already detected the quarian's intrusion though, and locked him out of anything outside their own area. "Shit, they've started to block us."

"Compensating." Zaael muttered as he released what he liked to call 'hunter-killer programs. Basically, beefed-up viruses. Ordering the digital plague with a flick of his three fingers, the virus wrapped its thralls around one of the VIs and erased it bit by bit. He grinned.

It was a simple matter of keep away now; just hold off the security measures until Tarlan managed to get the defenses offline and cracking the armory doors open, where Shepard, Carrick, and the other big players of the breakout were waiting.

Clapping his hands together, Tarlan hooted with excitement, "Got the turrets offline! Working on the armory doors now…" His fingers darted over the holographic panels as his ally kept any VI countermeasures at bay. Two minutes later he hollered behind his mask with pride, "Doors are open!"

"All right, grab their omni-tools and guns. Let's go!"

* * *

"So, Carrick. What do the tattoos on your arms mean?"

Running a wrinkled hand through his gray hair, the inmate turned to the man next to him, a brow raised, "Is this really the time for questions?"

Shepard shrugged as he leaned against the wall, his eyes fixated on Keelan, who was keeping his silver eyes locked on the armory door, still locked. The two guards that usually stood by were called away, Zarr's krogan causing a ruckus a couple rooms away. Glancing towards Halach and Lankos at the far side of the mess hall, the Commander continued, "Why not? We got a few more minutes before all hell breaks loose."

A half-smile broke over Carrick's stony expression, "You got a point. See these tats right here?" He pointed a meaty finger at the designs that resembled unit patches from some military group. "These are from my home colony, a world long dead now. Our job was to protect the planet's assets, mostly fossil fuels." Scratching his chin, Carrick's half-smile blossomed into a full grin. "But me and my group of men broke off, 'bout a hundred of us. Formed our own alliance and began raiding, stealing the fuel and selling them for profit. Made a pretty paycheck before nuclear war broke out, but we were long gone before it happened."

His smile disappeared. "I watched from orbit as my own colony destroyed itself, partially thanks to us. Without the fuel, governments turned on each other, and before long… the bombs fell." His voice turned to a growl, "Without a teat to suck on, most people fall into chaos. Seen it happen a dozen times over." Wrapping around Shepard's collar, Carrick's large hand yanked the Spectre in. "_Don't _let it happen here."

Before Shepard could respond, Keelan gave a high-pitched whistle, followed by his eager words, "Doors are open!"

Lankos huffed as he turned for the hall, "Looks like you quarians are useful after all."

Both humans marched towards the now-open armory, along with their alien allies. Zarr would join them shortly, since he was preoccupied with setting up the distractions for the guards.

Halach quietly sorted out his fifteen men, all strong turians, all with previous military service. The officer simply marched into the armory and calmly dolled out weapons, thermal clips, armor, and rebreathers to his men. The majority of the gear in here was meant for turians, so Halach's men were easily equipped for a firefight.

Sorting through the lockers, Carrick found to his surprise, _human _gear. The armor was ancient stuff, no kinetic barriers, but it was better than just a jumpsuit. Throwing a helmet to Shepard, Carrick snapped the torso sections into place over his frame.

It was going to be a tight fit, but it would do.

Lankos managed to supply the group with five batarians, and as he said himself, they were probably the best shots in the whole prison. Too bad he hasn't seen a Spectre in action.

Almost completely giddy with excitement, Keelan found the one thing that was promised within this armory. Explosives. _Lots _of them. Upon the very far wall, secured inside a locker, were grenades, rocket launchers, and blocks upon blocks of plastic explosives.

These guys were prepared for war, not guard duty.

He raced over and immediately tried to pry open the door, but it was sealed shut. Shepard came over to assist, but it still wouldn't budge.

"Heh, always weak."

Both turned to find Zarr standing behind them, a grin over his lips. The krogan plodded forward and shoved Keelan and Shepard out of the way. Rearing his head back, Zarr cracked down on the locker with the brunt of his scarred head crest, crushing the door. Taking a step back, he rolled his neck, letting each vertebrae pop before the alien simply ripped the door off.

Blood red eyes fell upon Keelan, "_That's _how you get through doors."

"Like to see you get through a bulkhead like that…" Keelan grumbled as he yanked a belt of grenades of the wall and wrapped it around his waist. A bandolier of even more grenades came, followed by a rocket launcher, which he simply threw on his back. Stuffing a block of plastic explosives in a small pack, Keelan turned to Shepard and nodded.

"I'm all set."

Halach turned, donning armor usually worn by the guards, rebreather covering his face. He nodded to the turians behind him, rifles in their hands and armor over their frames. "My men are ready too, Shepard."

The batarians had pistols and shotguns at the ready. Lankos simply nodded, his brown skin flared a light purple, showing off barely contained energy.

Grabbing a rifle off the wall, Shepard marched towards the front and faced his men. His eyes darted back and forth before he spoke, "You've all been in here for too long. If you want freedom, then you have to work _together. _The last attempt failed because the humans and turians refused to work with each other. If you want to escape, if you want to _survive_, then look to your left and right…"

Aliens and humans alike glanced at each other, with skeptic eyes at first, but it gave way to necessity. Like or not, they all _needed _each other.

The Commander continued, "…These are your brothers now. They are your lifeline, and you're theirs."

Zarr nodded slowly, his stubby fingers put a death-grip around the shotgun he received. A toothy grin returned to the krogan. He was ready not just to escape, but to _kill_.

Shepard made a mental note to watch him.

"Move out."

* * *

"How many ships are out there? Who are they from?"

Commander Derej of the Black Talon frigate _Baetika _replied sullenly, as if afraid. _"Alliance vessels, Captain. Four frigates, based off of the old __**Normandy **__SR-1. They just breached the relay on the outskirts of the system. Orders, sir?"_

How the hell did any ship, let along human Alliance ships, get through the Oraka Gateway? Only Talon operatives could unlock it. The Captain growled back, "How many ships do we have in system, right now?"

"_Six of our frigates, two cruisers, and the dreadnought __**Huratan**__."_

"Get them into position on our side of the planet, and give those ships one warning to leave. If not, blow them out of the sky."

Derej hesitated, and then shakily replied, _"Sir, these are Alliance ships! If we attack, this could start a war!"_

He didn't have time for this. "Derej, _you _are under _my _command, not the Hierarchy's! Get the ships in position! Is that clear?"

"_Yes…sir." _He grumbled before shutting the channel.

Sighing with relief, Farrax welcomed the silence, not just to his ears but to his mind as well. _It _had left him alone for the past few minutes, of course, any time without that thing in his head was a relief. He wished he never took the job to find Shepard, to never get on that derelict freighter, and never to find that _abomination_ waiting for him. His eyes drifted slowly to the pistol that sat on his desk. It was fully charged and clean. Ready to fire. The Captain gave a grim chuckle as his hand fell on the weapon.

_Humans say suicide can be painless… _Farrax thought as he brought the gun to his head, a lone finger wrapped around the trigger. _Let's hope they're right._

His finger froze, and not to his own accord.

**Put the weapon away.**

Farrax screamed, his mandibles flaring with rage. His own mind retorted, the small section that was still free from this monster's influence.

_No! If this is the only way to stop you…I __will!_

A mocking chuckle filled his brain. **You are a fool. If you could, you would have done so. You remain because we wish it. **

Farrax didn't respond. What could he say? Before he realized it, his arm worked against him, forcing the gun back to the desk, his strong hand released its grip.

A beep from Farrax's terminal raised the Captain from his stupor.

**Answer it.**

Farrax still struggled against the influence, however weakly. _No…_

**Answer!**

His sharp talons slapped down on the terminal. "What is it?"

It was one of his sergeants who replied, _"Sir? We just lost contact with the entire west wing. Someone's hacked the system, and I can't get in touch with any of the guards in that sector."_

Shepard's cell was within the west wing.

"Lock down every door entering and exiting that wing! I want security systems online."

The sergeant's voice became distant as he dolled out the orders to fellow guards, only for his voice to rise in alarm. He reluctantly turned back to his radio and spoke into fearfully. _"Uh, sir? We got a minor problem. It seems that our security systems within the wing are…inactive at the moment."_

"The hell do you mean by inactive?" Farrax's fist slammed against his desk before he darted to his feet. "What the hell does Warden Tordun train you for?" Approaching the door, Farrax screamed into his radio before shutting it off. "Vent the air from the prison."

"_Which sections, Captain?"_

"All of them."

* * *

"Do they know we're here?"

Joker tapped on his screen, disregarding the radar that just showed multiple Black Talon ships moving up from the planet, straight towards them. A simple 'no' was the only reply that the nervous Tali got from the pilot. Stealth systems were engaged, this time before they were detected by these Talons. Joker was going to make sure that would never happen again.

"And you're sure?" The quarian nervously warbled, her eyes stared over the pilot's slim shoulder to find that the ships were moving towards them. "Because they coming right at us."

EDI warned of a turian dreadnought being detected, by Joker throttled the engines regardless. "The Alliance was right on our ass. They're probably coming out the relay right now, with no stealth systems online. _That's _probably what's bringing these guys up from the planet."

"But if they attack the humans…" Grunt rumbled slowly, "Then won't it start a war between your two species?"

"A big one. Bigger than the First Contact War." Miranda stated nervously, knowing a war would shatter political and economic relations with turians for centuries to come, which could turn Citadel Space into a war zone.

"We'll get by them, don't worry." Joker reassured as he glanced towards EDI's panel. "EDI, start scanning that planet. Let's find out where this prison is."

* * *

**SSV **_**Khe Sanh.**_

"Captain! Multiple contacts!" Yuri shouted as his screen lit up with new pings. The largest one being a dreadnought.

"I know, I know." Kortus responded as he stood over his pilot, his dark eyes staring at the same screens. "Just keep your fingers away from the trigger and we should be fine." The Captain nervously shifted and wiped away imaginary dust from the shoulders of his uniform.

Something wasn't right. They just arrived in this system and already there were ships laying in wait for them. If you wanted peace, you didn't send a dreadnought out to greet you.

The voice of Lieutenant Crowe filled the man's ears. "Sir. Should we be getting nervous?"

Kortus returned his best smile. He had read Crowe's file. This kid hadn't actually been in real ship-to-ship combat, or any combat rather. He was held highly for being the son of General Franklin Crowe, an old war hero who had his son pulled through the Alliance with only a few true ground jobs. Crowe's only true combat experience, minus the realistic simulators on Arcturus Station, was on Eden Prime, not a few days ago. And this guy was leading the massive ground team, if it came to that.

"We'll be fine. Just keep your head on straight, Lieutenant." Kortus nodded as he turned back to the screen. "Yuri, bring up the bow cams and open up comms with the _Marathon_."

Images of the approaching turian craft appeared on the _Khe Sanh's _main screen. Gleaming pearl white hulls lit up the darkness of space. Frigates, the cruisers, and the dreadnought all had black designs tracing down their hulls, resembling claw marks. Navigator Willis ordered for a remote scan of the Talon vessels, only to learn their signals were being jammed.

Perfect. Now they had no idea what these things were packing.

"_This is Rear Admiral Ozawa of the __**Marathon**__. Go ahead, Captain Kortus."_

"Ma'am," Kortus began as he glanced out the viewport, showing that the Admiral's frigate had taken the lead in their small formation, with the _Thermopylae _and _Yorktown _bringing up the rear, "these ships are blocking our scans. We don't know what we're up against."

"_We're going up against warships, Captain." _Ozawa stated matter-of-factly, her voice practically dripping with the casual admiral 'I've seen it all' tone. _"They're going to be armed to the teeth, as are we."_

Crowe spoke up, "But ma'am, we're outnumbered here, and obviously outclassed. Our best calculations have us making only two kills before that dreadnought blows us off the map."

"_Hopefully this won't turn hot, but warm up an FTL comm back to the __**Socrates **__just in case."_

Doug shook his head and grumbled, "I'm tired of hearing this bull. These guys don't look like that peacemaking type."

Randy shot a harsh glare at the soldier before ordering Willis to get FTL comms ready.

* * *

**SSV **_**Marathon.**_

"Ma'am! Lead frigate is pinging us, requesting we open up ship-to-ship communications immediately. Orders?"

Akane Ozawa gritted her teeth as she wrung and twisted the cap in her hands. Sweat dripped down her back as she glared out into space, the turian ships getting bigger and bigger as they approached. They were in the first cruiser's kill zone now, with the second one not far behind. Plus it was only a matter of a few minutes before the dreadnought could do the same.

"Open up comms, Lieutenant."

"Aye aye, ma'am." The young male replied with a nod, his blue eyes locked in on his screen as he opened up the communications line with the lead Talon frigate. "This is the Alliance frigate SSV _Marathon_, please respond."

After ten brief seconds of static, a gruff turian voice replied, _"Alliance vessel, this is system is restricted to all outsiders. You are in violation of several protocols established by the Turian Hierarchy and the Citadel Council."_

"And the illegal kidnapping of a former Alliance officer and current Council Spectre carries its own weight in violations as well." Ozawa retorted calmly but did little to hide the distaste she had for aliens, especially the avian-like turians. To her, they were murderous and violent, preferring to bomb things to hell instead of negotiations. _They _started the First Contact War by attacking the exploring human vessels instead of communicating with them.

Silence over the comms prompted the Rear Admiral to continue, "We know that one Commander Shepard is being held on that planet, in some sort of prison. We want him released, immediately."

Turians were _disgusting_. When Eden Prime was attacked, the Council barely lifted a finger, and humanities so-called turian allies did very little for the struggling colonists after the geth assault. They just continued business as usual. At least the asari and salarian councilors offered their condolences, the turian couldn't care less.

"_Miss, we highly advise that your vessels return through the relay and take up a formal complaint with the Hierarchy. Our records show no man by the name of Shepard."_

"You can tell that lie to your crewmates, turian. But don't lie to me." Ozawa warned. "We want this meeting to be as non-violent as possible. We just want our man."

The line cut abruptly, and the pilot shouted as his screen clogged up with warnings, "Ma'am! We've just been painted!"

Shit.

"Evasive maneuvers! Get me a firing solution and have damage control teams at the ready!"

* * *

Randy watched as the _Marathon _nosed hard to starboard as the first turian cruiser unleashed its main gun. A long, orange ray of light raced through the inky black vacuum and fried the frigate's shields, quickly tearing into the hull. Fire rushed out the new gashes along the hull before the beam severed the farthest engine on the left side of the _Marathon._

Panicked transmissions came from the _Yorktown's _crew, _"__**Marathon **__is hit! Repeat, she's hit! Lost engine two on the port side."_

Without the thrust provided from any one of a frigate's engines, maneuverability and speed were drastically reduced. The _Marathon _was practically dead in the water.

Navigator Willis hissed into the FTL comm, "This is battle group alpha! Hostile contacts, repeat, hostile contacts! Requesting immediate assistance!"

The calm voice of Admiral Hackett replied, _"Roger that. Section two of Fifth Fleet is coming in. ETA two minutes."_

Kortus took control, plan already in his head. "_Yorktown _and _Thermopylae, _form up to my rear and make a wolf pack". Both frigates acknowledged and maneuvered towards the _Khe Sanh's _rear. They couldn't do much for the _Marathon _except draw attention away from it, which was what the Captain exactly planned on doing.

The three frigates formed an arrowhead and flared their engines, rocketing towards the lead Talon vessel.

"Arm torpedoes." Kortus ordered as the Talon frigate brought its nose up to meet the approaching Alliance vessels.

"Torpedoes armed, sir."

"All ships open fire."

The _Khe Sanh _rattled as it released a volley of projectiles and pulled upwards sharply, both the other two frigates doing the same. Shields flaring with impact after impact, the Talon frigate's kinetic barrier overloaded and failed, the final few Alliance torpedoes tore through the upper decks of the craft, explosions raced throughout the innards of the ship. It lazily listed to port before its engine cores went critical, shearing the vessel in half with a violent detonation.

Kortus grinned as sweat began to drip from his black hair. Good, these Talon ships weren't as highly touted as their infantry was.

Multiple alarm sirens pierced Yuri's headset, "Captain, we've been pinged by the remainder of the ships, including the dreadnought!"

"All ships break formation!" Kortus demanded, "Don't give them an easy shot and keep them away from the _Marathon_."

Randy ran to an open comm station and tried to hail the crippled frigate, only to get silence as his response. He tried again, and still didn't get anything. The hull rattled as the impact of an enemy torpedo cracked against the kinetic barriers of the frigate, but the shielding held. Suddenly, Randy's stomach jerked sharply to the left, indicating that Yuri was dodging more incoming fire.

"New contacts coming in through the relay." A bridge techie shouted, her eyes locked in on her glowing terminal, casting an orange hue over her blue uniform. "IFF reads they're Fifth Fleet."

The voice of Captain Hannah Shepard filled the ears of every man and woman on the bridges of all three frigates. _"All frigates, give the __**Orizaba **__a firing solution. Cruisers, take out priority targets and distract that dreadnought. Fighters, take out its shields."_

* * *

"All Hornets, on me! Arm disrupter torpedoes and stay on my ass, we're hitting that dreadnought!" Flight Commander Lewis Mullin ordered with a grin as he throttled his fighter. Glancing out towards his left, he saw the rest of his flight with him. The 809th Fighter Wing, the 'Mighty Mighty Hornets.'

Each vessel was painted the usual red and white of an Alliance fighter, but each pilot was charged with painting on their own little yellow and black hornet. It set a mentality for each pilot, get in quick, sting the enemy, and get the hell out.

Mullin pressed into the back of his seat as the squadron passed by the _Orizaba_, who was preparing her main gun to rip the opposing dreadnought a new one. But first, it was up to the Hornets, and three other fighter squadrons -each at the strength of two dozen fighters each- to take out the big bastard's shielding.

Chunks of metal pinged off his fighter's hull, most likely pieces of the wounded _Marathon_. Mullin passed by the floating ship and received a quick assessment from his heads-up display.

_Damage: Severe._

_Thrust Capabilities: Minimal._

_Kinetic Barriers: Ten Percent._

_Status of Crew: Unknown._

Mullin grimaced. Not the best damage report he's ever read, but at least getting one was better than flying past a completely destroyed ship, like he had so many times when the geth attacked the Citadel. Dead husks of vessels that were the pride of navies floated uselessly in zero-g, sheets of metal was what usually remained. It was also the first time the Flight Commander saw _corpses _upon _corpses _strewn throughout space, lifeless. It was haunting to see valiant captains and servicemen frozen stiff from the cold. Simply imagining such a fate left ice running up and down his spine.

Tearing his view away from the _Marathon_, Mullin pulled his eyes towards his objective. The turian dreadnought now filled his HUD, and the grin returned to his cheeks, "All right Hornets, fast and hard!"

Shoving the flight stick towards his feet, his fighter dove for the starboard bow of the dreadnought, where all along the hull anti-aircraft fire came to life. Bullets silently screamed past the cockpit. Red beams of light from GARDIAN lasers traced across the inky black, searching for pesky fighters to kill.

Easily dodging these countermeasures, Mullin yanked back on the trigger, releasing a volley of torpedoes. A few were struck by the dreadnoughts lasers, but the majority slammed against the shields, casting bright white, flaring ripples across the protective shell. Yanking back on the stick, his craft evened out and pulled away. Excited hoots from the other pilots filled his headset, showing their volleys hit as well.

He reorganized his squadron and ordered another run, turning back for the dreadnought. Off in the distance, Mullin could make out the _Chicago _blowing away a turian cruiser, its white hull blackened with fire before it almost shattered. Then the Alliance cruiser simply plowed through its remains, almost throwing the lazily drifting sections of hull out of its path.

Flares of red washed over Mullin's left wing, rocking the small fighter and pulling the pilot out of his stupor. His HUD flashed a warning across his eyes.

_Damage to left rudder and ailerons. Compensating._

While his eyes were locked in on the now-flaming part of his fighter, out of the corner of his eye, the Flight Commander he saw as an ally fighter about fifty or so yards away was incinerated. Then another, then another.

_Shit. They're getting good…_Mullin assessed grimly. His hand flew to his controls, opening up a channel with the SSV _Yorktown._

"_Yorktown_? This is squadron eight-oh-nine, requesting a run on that dreadnought. Help us drop her shields, over."

"_Already on it, eight-oh-nine. Keep your eyes on the sky, over."_

Mullin's eyes darted up, to find the four white-hot engines of the _Yorktown _overhead. They flared with acceleration, leaving the fighters in its wake. Lighting up with a blue orb of energy, the nose of the _Yorktown _discharged two slugs from its main gun. The rounds smashed into the dreadnought's failing shields, punching through them like paper before smashing into the hull. Plumes of orange jettisoned from the new holes in the vessel, melting away entire sections of the white armor.

But the dreadnought managed to fire off its main gun once, and the shields the _Yorktown _had couldn't hold back the blast. The frigate was sheared in half, straight down the middle from bow to stern. Her momentum carried, though, and what was left of the ship carried right into the turian dreadnought's hull.

Entire sections of the alien vessel's hull came off in a violent blast, nearly blinding Mullin.

Panicked voices filled the pilot's head.

"_What the hell just happened!"_

"_We just lost the __**Yorktown**__!"_

"_Anyone see any escape pods?"_

Mullin grimaced as he ordered for his fighters to head back through the relay, back to the _Socrates_. He prepared to pull away from the destruction, but something cracked against his craft, jarring the pilot around in his seat. A loud pop followed, and then a deafening boom as his fighter nosed over, straight for the dreadnought. His HUD flashed another warning.

_Critical Damage! Critical Damage!_

_Engines: Compromised._

_Loss of Control Likely._

Grunting with annoyance, Mullin yanked as hard as he could on the flight stick, but his fighter refused to respond. The burning hull of the turian ship came closer, and the impact forced Mullin's head right into the controls.

Everything went dark.

* * *

When his vision returned, all the pilot felt was pain in his leg and a throbbing forehead. The cockpit glass was cracked, but not breached. He _wasn't moving_, not anymore. He was _stationary._

His tiny fighter had come to a stop on top of the dreadnought's hull. His ship was dead, engines fried. Plus the impact probably killed any remaining systems.

"So it's gonna be like that, huh?" The Commander grumbled as he unclipped his helmet.

"_This is Captain Shepard, any word on that dreadnought's shields?"_

Mullin's eyes found the human cruisers pulling away, and the _Orizaba_ in the distance, laying in wait. Her main gun was ready to fire, to annihilate anything in its path. Grinning, Mullin nodded slowly.

_A damn fine way to die. Better than old age._

He brought a hand to his headset and spoke, the smile never leaving his face, "This is Flight Commander Mullin, the shields are down, _Orizaba_. Blow this fucker away."

The Alliance battleship's main gun lit up immediately, sending a twenty kilo slug that had force equal to three times that of Hiroshima's city buster into the turian dreadnought.

A flash of white blinded the pilot, and then there was nothing.

But his smile never died.

* * *

"_Crowe, get your strike team planetside, now!"_

Randy was already in action though. "_Chicago_, dock with the _Marathon _and get every crewmate out of there. _Thermopylae_ and _Yorktown,_ on me. Get your marines ready for a hot drop."

Captain Kortus cut in, "We just got a status report, the _Yorktown's _gone. Completely destroyed."

"Damn it." There was well over a hundred and fifty marines on board, not even counting the crew.

"Lieutenant!" The officer turned to find Ash running towards him, data-pad in her hand. "We just got a scan of the desert facility. You might want to see this."

Grabbing the device from his second-in-command, Randy's scanned its contents and grimaced. The prison facility had four offspring buildings a couple hundred meters from the main compound, one to the north, south, east, and west respectively. Each one had high-orbit scanners, and mid-range anti-aircraft guns.

So much for a hot drop in the Vulcans. His plan was to use the main force of marines as a large diversion, hopefully drawing out enough Talons to leave resistance inside at a minimum while they went after Shepard. Now it looks like this was going to have to be done the hard way.

"Belay previous order on the drop. We need a new game plan."

"Come on, Zaael, get that door open!" Shepard hollered, his rifle kicking into his shoulder as he dropped another charging prisoner. They practically had to fight their way through their own wing, with every prisoner not involved in the breakout trying to grab their guns. Shepard's little team had already lost two of Halach's turians, one nasty little krogan rushed them and killed the two aliens before anyone could've fired back.

"I'm trying! This is harder than it looks!" The quarian hissed as his hands deftly moved over the door panel. His omni-tool couldn't open up the metal portal, so he had to do it the old-fashioned way.

Two salarian prisoners rushed for the group of escapees, brandishing homemade blades. Already pissed off, Zarr threw his gun aside and charged for the amphibians with a roar. Two tiny salarians could do little to stop a charging krogan, as they were both thrown back several feet from the violent collision.

Ignoring pleas to take cover from Shepard and Carrick, Zarr went after the two non-humans, not even phased as the remaining guards within the wing -who were firing from up above on the second level- started to take potshots at the imposing krogan.

"Zarr! Get your stubby ass back here…" Carrick spat as he aimed for the guards above and snapped his finger back on the trigger. Blue blood spattered as a round connected with the first guard's head, painting the gray wall as the second guard ducked back into cover, much to the annoyance of Carrick.

Silently, Keelan simply tapped the priming button on one of his grenades and chucked it over. 'Chucked' was an inaccurate word though; the quarian more or less _pitched _the grenade across the room. It smacked against the wall and landed right between the sheltered guards legs, setting off a terrified scream, silenced by fire and shrapnel.

The burly alien pumped his fist, the cocky little smirk under his visor grew.

Zaael growled back to his team, "Got it. Let's move."

Zarr yet again ignored any and all pleas as he towered over the first salarian, still alive. The imposing alien wrapped his hand around the inmate's throat and lifted him into the air.

Shepard stormed over to the krogan, "Zarr, stand down!"

Paying no attention to the human's plea, the krogan crime lord growled at the amphibian he held in his hand… and snapped its neck. Throwing the corpse aside, the krogan came face to face with the Commander.

Zarr simply shrugged and started to walk around Shepard, only to have the human grab the alien and slam his forehead against Zarr's scarred crest. Taken aback, the blood red eyes narrowed in on the human.

_How dare he…_

Opening his mouth to berate the tiny human, Zarr was cut off as a foot snaked behind his own, and an elbow cracked against his jawbone. Before the krogan realized what the hell just happened, he was on the floor with a pistol being held a centimeter away from his left eye.

"You are under _my _command, krogan." Shepard hissed, his finger dangerously close to the trigger. "That means you follow my _orders_. If I tell you to stop, you stop. I tell you to move, you move. I tell you to pop a squat and take a shit, I better see you dropping your pants."

Zarr's amusement took over his anger. His chuckle filled the now-empty wing. "A human with a quad…_and _a sense of humor." Shoving the gun away from his eye, the calmed alien climbed to his feet and cracked his knuckles. "I like you, human, Shepard, whatever it is. I'll try to keep myself in check, at least until the blood rage comes in… then you stay outta my way."

"Guess I can ask much else from you, huh?"

Grunting, Zarr picked up his shotgun and ran for the door.

Halach and his turians would be the first to enter, since none of the other races involved had rebreathers. And like any good leader, Halach was in the front, leading his men. He nodded towards Zaael, who unlocked the door. A loud pop sounded off, followed by a hiss of air as the door to the next wing slid open.

"As long as we keep the doors open," Zaael explained as his hands wrapped around his pistol, "then the air will keep flowing."

Checking his rifle as the turians filed through the door and nervously asked, "What if the door closes on us?"

"I uploaded a little virus to their systems. A subtask for it keeps all doors open once someone unlocks them, while making all doors that are shut, stay shut."

Good to know. Didn't want to run out of air prematurely. Shepard shivered. He already knew what that felt like the first time, being trapped in the void of space with a breached suit.

* * *

"_Jeff, I'm reading that the facility has at least four AA turrets within range of the prison." _

"Thanks mom, for the _umpteenth_ time." Joker sarcastically lamented. "Garrus has already got a plan, since I told him about it ten minutes ago."

"_And why wasn't I informed, Mister Moreau?"_

_Jeez, here comes some more probing. Heh, 'probing,' kinda funny, since aliens make up half of the crew now. _The pilot snapped out of his immature thoughts.

"Uh, because…"

"_Because?" _EDI pressed again, getting annoyed.

"Just because, EDI. Just because."

An audible 'humph' came from EDI, followed by an almost gleeful threat. "Well then, Jeff…it's time I dip into those old music files, then."

"Oh, come on!"

* * *

It was her voice, but it wasn't _her_. It had been nagging her ever since the EMP hit the _Normandy _days ago. When the blast happened, the convict felt like someone put her brain in a microwave and turned it on high. The implants in her head still hurt. Whatever was in her head now, it was playing games with her. Games she didn't like one bit.

_You're practically an animal, girl. Face it. Only thing that makes you different is that you can walk on two legs._

Jack hissed back in the dark as she brought her knees to her chest, "Shut the fuck up! You don't know shit about me…"

_Ha. Please. _It replied. _You murder for credits, you murder for the hell of it. You can barely tell what's right from wrong…Scratch that, you __can't__ tell right from wrong._

"Fuck! You!" Jack shouted, shooting to her feet. Hands shaking with rage, the former prisoner barely even realized her biotics just flung a crate across the room, nearly hitting a waiting Tali. Jack's nostrils flared, "The hell do you want?"

"We need you up in the comm room…" Tali anxiously uttered, afraid of what Jack was going to do next. "Garrus is putting a team together for the infiltration."

_Perfect. They need you yet again to bust Shepard's ass out of trouble. Well better get up there, animal. _

Growling at the hostile voice, the woman spat on the ground and looked up at the obviously frightened quarian, "All right. Was getting bored down here anyways."

* * *

"So here's what we'll do." Garrus started out as Jack and Tali entered the room. "With the help of Commander Falan here," he tapped the captive Talon on the shoulder before turning back to the holo-screen, which displayed a layout of the prison, "I've been able to figure out our best point of entry."

His finger found a small rooftop near the center of the jail. "We'll land one of our shuttles here, and with a small team, we'll head in and get the Commander."

The former cop turned to his crew. "I'll lead this op, since I've worked in a few prisons before, C-Sec requirement. Grunt?"

The perfect krogan lifted his head, delighted that his name was called.

"You're our heavy hitter. Our pointman." Garrus nodded towards Tali and Legion, "You'll be our tech squad, knocking out any security systems as we go. Legion?"

Turning its attention away from the screen, Legion's eyespot lit up with interest, "Yes?"

If there was anyone who could track the human Spectre, it would be this very geth. "I need you to help us find Shepard, you're a good tracker, so I'll need you to be at your best."

"This platform always runs at optimum capacity, and we shall do everything we can to assist your plan."

Garrus' eyes fell on Jack. "You'll be heavy support, using your biotics to kill off any dumb son of a bitch to get in our way."

Jack grinned. She had to admit, she loved killing prison guards. "With pleasure."

He then relegated secondary objectives to the other teammates. Jacob, Thane, and Zaeed would head for the first AA tower, while Miranda, Kasumi, Samara, and Mordin would head for the second. The other two gun emplacements would have to wait.

Garrus deactivated the holo-screen and gave a nervous laugh. "I'm not one for big speeches, usually that's Shepard's job." He straightened up, his tone went dead serious, "But he isn't here. These Black Talon bastards…"

Falan groaned, "I'm standing right here…"

"…think they can just take Shepard and not have any sort of reprisal. That's not going to happen."

Tali's heart pounded at the turian's words. She was ready. Ready to take on anything to get what she wanted back.

"Shepard's done something for each of us…" Garrus continued, as his eyes drifted to Jack, "Whether it was blow away bad memories." To Miranda, Thane, Samara, and Jacob, "Deal with family." To Zaaed and Mordin, "Go after 'old friends.'" Grunt and Kasumi, "Rites of passage and keeping good memories intact." Legion and Tali, "Helping our people, for better or for worse."

Garrus paused as he looked at his feet. _Helped us take a better path than just blind murder._

His eyes found his comrades again, "Time to go and do something for Shepard."

* * *

Peace.


	10. When a Plan Falls Apart

When a Plan Falls Apart

* * *

Derej's holographic figure appeared before Farrax's comm panel. Sweat dripped down the turian's face and his eyes darted around in obvious panic. Sparks rained from behind the Commander, showing his frigate had taken heavy damage.

"Report." Farrax demanded as he strapped a rifle to his back while he glanced to his boot. The quarian's knife was still there, and it brought an odd comfort to the man.

"_Alliance fleet burst through the relay…took out our cruisers quickly…then went for the dreadnought." _Derej paused as he bent over, hands on his knees. He was exhausted. _"We couldn't save the __**Huratan**__. They took her down and are now pressing towards the planet."_

"Hold them. I need to find Shepard and get him secured."

"_We can't hold!" _Derej shouted, standing tall again. _"I'm down to one crippled cruiser that's being boarded by Alliance as we speak. I have two active frigates left and we can't stop their advance. I will __not__ lose anymore men."_

"You're weak, Commander. Spineless."

"_Spare me the insults, Captain." _With a wave of his hand, Derej's image disappeared.

Farrax sighed. He didn't tolerate incompetence, not one bit. He'd deal with the Commander later though, for now, he had to find Shepard and secure the little bastard.

* * *

**Aboard Alliance Mantis Gunship '**_**Lil' Suzie.**_**' Twelve Kilometers from LZ.**

"Shields up! Contact in two minutes!"

Lifting a hand, Ashley slapped the breastplate of her armor, and her kinetic barrier hummed to life. It didn't provide any comfort though. Neither did her armor nor the four weapons and bandolier of grenades she carried with her. Before the discovery of hostile anti-aircraft guns, the marines were meant to drop through orbit, similar to what they had done on Eden Prime, but those guns would pick off any ship as they burned through the atmosphere.

So the Lieutenant came up with a plan on very short notice. Drop a couple of gunships and two heavy Titan transports filled with troops onto the planet and fly below the AA radar, then destroy them and signal for the rest of the marines to drop in. So instead of the some seven hundred originally promised, Randy and Ash had only about two hundred. The majority of those troops were onboard the Titans.

Hackett denied any orbital strikes, for fear of hitting the prison and possibly killing Shepard. Ash argued that chance was a billion in one, seeing how fleet strikes are usually so accurate, but the Admiral wouldn't have any of it.

The Operations Chief rose from her seat and carefully stepping over Tank's giant legs, made her way to cockpit. Standing over the pilot, Randy's eyes glared out towards the expanse of desert in front of them. In the distance, you could barely make out a large, sand-worn structure. An inactive gun, about the size of the Mantis itself, rested on the roof. The Lieutenant grimaced.

"This doesn't feel right…" Randy whispered, the readings on the visor of his helmet showing him no life signs around the structure.

He was nervous. It was obvious. Ash picked it up awhile ago while still on the _Khe Sanh_, but didn't want to mention it at first, thinking his reaction was just the usual pre-mission jitters…But this was something more. He didn't waltz around with the same confidence, his voice didn't have the sharpness it did before. Glancing downward, the soldier noticed the officer's left hand was shaking, even as he tried to hide it by pressing it against his thigh.

Placing hand on his shoulder, Ash whispered, "You okay, sir?"

"No." He barked back, his eyes found Ash's. Sighing, his expression softened, "Sorry. This op is just…_big_. Never been in command of so many before."

Eden Prime wasn't a real battle to Randy, a mere skirmish at best. He didn't shoot at trained soldiers, just militia turned thugs. These Black Talons though, were something else entirely. Their kill lists were long, the criminals they captured the worst of the worst, and they were bred for war.

He could almost _feel _the harsh words at the back of his mind.

_Weakness._

"I've never been…" He broke eye contact with Ash, staring back at the rapidly approaching building, "…in _real _war."

The pilot butted in, preventing Ashley's response. "Whoa! We've been painted!"

Warning claxons wailed, and soon the gunship's VI warned, _"Evasive maneuvers advised immediately."_

Wrenching the flight stick, the pilot forced the Mantis to weave back and forth, throwing Ashley and Randy about in the cabin.

The black anti-aircraft gun suddenly came to life; its black barrel turned for the evading ship and took aim. Fire belched from the end, and milliseconds later, the Mantis' right wing was sheared off in a violent impact, sending the Lieutenant to the floor.

Doug laughed amidst the chaos as the craft began to spin clockwise, out of control, "Hey Gordon! You're a techie, right! Think you can fix the wing?"

Gordon, gloved hand clutching his stomach, gave the Texan the finger with his free hand, inciting more laughs from him.

Hands flying to the handholds on his seat, the pilot screamed over the blaring warnings from his ship's computers, "We're going in! Brace for impact!"

Ashley felt the hull collide with the sand below, and the force threw her against the wall, knocking air from her lungs. Gravity then appeared to do _backflips_, sending Ash and Randy to the _ceiling_. Her helmeted head smacked against something hard, and the Chief blacked out.

"_Come on! Forget the pilot, he's dead!" _A voice shouted, panic and anger mixed into his drawl. Gunfire rang out loudly, sending lances of pain through her ears. She felt someone grab her arm, lifting her up, but she couldn't see anything. Couldn't even _move._

Heat washed over her instantly. She was outside, feeling hot air slap her in the face hard. Then sand met her cheek as someone shrugged her off their shoulders, leaving her there. The gunfire became louder, and the trademark pop and hiss of bullets soaring overhead made their presence known. Randy's voice pierced the din of the battle.

"_Defilade! Get some defilade! Tank, grab the Chief!"_

A giant hand yanked on Ashley's collar, lifting her into the air and onto his broad back. More gunshots, _loud _gunshots. Tank was firing his rifle away with free hand as he sprinted, an incapacitated Operations Chief on his back. He grunted as he slid behind a dune, carefully lowering the woman to the ground before shouting, "Guns! Over here!"

Footsteps deafened by the sand and volleys of bullets approached, then the tone of an omni-tool coming to life. "Come on, Ashley, get up." Then a jolt of energy surged through every muscle in Ash's body, forcing feeling back into her body as her eyes were forced open wide.

The wreckage of the Mantis they flew in on was the first thing Ash's eyes revealed, the aircraft resting overturned on its back, cockpit crushed. Slowly, she looked over to Guns, who nodded. The Chief was going to be all right.

Snapping out of her haze, Ash grabbed the rifle from her back and looked towards the top of the dune, where Randy and the others had taken positions, firing back at an unseen enemy. She could make out Jane; here cold blue eyes staring down her scope, her rifle kicking at her shoulder as the trigger was pulled. Climbing up the dune, Ash set herself down next to Jane.

The AA tower was in the distance, inactive yet again. But the building it was built on was anything but. Dozens of turians were firing back at the humans, either from the roof, from windows, or behind concrete-lined trenches that ran around the perimeter.

Plumes of sand rose as bullets missed Ashley, while other slammed into her shields.

Randy was arguing over the radio, "I didn't order anyone to pull back! We've been shot down and stuck in their goddamned line of fire, and you're telling me the rest of the force pulled _back_?!" He paused as he listened to the reply. He didn't like it. "No! I'm down to just my team of seven here. Send me someone!" A round from a sniper slammed into the officer's kinetic barriers, abruptly ending his demands.

Ash replaced her assault rifle for a longer-reaching weapon, and stared down the scope. A Talon appeared in her sights, a young turian who was particularly well-built. Black tattoos covered his face. Her weapon came to life in her hands, sending a slug that crashed through the alien's shields and through his forehead, nearly separating the top half of his skull from the lower half.

With gritted teeth, Doug was laying down suppressing fire with his Revenant, keeping the Talons in the trenches from firing back to much. To his left, Tank was firing controlled bursts from his rifle at anything popping up. His dark eyes darted back and forth beneath his bright orange visor, searching.

Gordon was hissing curses as his fingers swiftly darted along the panel of his omni-tool, sapping the shields from a Talon. He glanced over to Jane, "Shields down, rooftop, third from the left."

Jane mechanically aimed and fired, and turian's shields weren't there to protect him from the bullet. Blue blood sprayed from his temple as he stumbled back, before falling forward and off the building.

Paying no heed to their fallen comrade, the Talons kept up the fire, forcing the marines behind the dune.

"Shit!" Randy cursed as he slid down behind the sand of the thick dune. "Our own damn forces are too scared to help us out because of those turrets. 'Can't risk any more lives' they say, cowards I say."

Out of breath, Doug puffed as he slapped in a new thermal clip, "What do we do, sir?"

"We wait for the cavalry to grow some balls…"

* * *

Their attention was drawn to the southernmost compound, at least that's what Miranda noticed. Seems the Alliance mobilized ground troops pretty quickly, but apparently ran into a snare. Didn't matter. All her team needed to do was disable the turrets, not help out others in trouble. She wasn't Shepard; she wasn't going to risk lives when it came to doing the 'right' thing.

Sliding around the corner, biotic energy rushed forth from her palm and lifted the two Black Talon guards from the rear entrance, only to slam them against the same building they guarded. Bone cracked, their weapons slipped from their hands and sunk into the sand. With a simple wave of her hand, she tossed the dead aliens aside.

Kasumi appeared, her stealth cloak shorting out as she lithely moved to the door. Moving to her left, Miranda pressed against the wall next to the door, Samara and Mordin doing the same on the other side. Rapping a knuckle against the metal door, Kasumi raised her omni-tool to her lips. A gravely turian voice came out.

"_Let me in_."

A rough voiced from behind the door barked back, "What is it now? You haven't realized that we're being attacked yet?"

"_Can't fight all that well when I need to take a piss."_

"Go piss in your suit, it has a bladder built in for that."

"_You expect me to go in my armor, like some quarian? Just let me use that damn bathroom."_

Brief hesitation, then finally, "Fine, fine. If you're gonna whine about it." The door slid open, "Just down to the…" Eyes widened, realizing they found a human female and not a fellow commando, his hand dropped to his sidearm. The thief's hands flew up, grabbing both sides of the Talon's head and twisted hard, a loud snap accompanied the motion.

Grabbing the large collar of the alien's armor, Miranda pulled the turian to the side and face-first into the sand. Locust SMG now in hand, Kasumi entered the doorway, scanning the room with the barrel of her gun. Samara and Mordin followed, with the rear brought up by the Cerberus officer.

Two turians were on the far right side of the room, slowly pulling armor over their bodies, only to halt when they noticed the intruders.

With a wave of her blue hand, Samara forced a wall of energy into the two commandos. Their bodies became limp as they crashed into the opposite wall, allowing the salarian to move to the next door.

"Hmm." The doctor started out as he pressed a finger on the control, only to receive a tone of denial. "Seems that the door is locked on this level. Bypassing now."

"No time." Miranda hissed as she shoved the alien to the side and pointed the barrel of her weapon at the panel. Sparks rained at her feet after the trigger was pulled, but the door malfunctioned and opened with little protest.

Mordin grimaced, "Illogical. Now they'll know we're here."

"They've probably redirected most of their forces to deal with the Alliance," Miranda dismissed as she made her way up the now-revealed staircase, her team in tow. Her eyes glanced upward, and at the top of the stairway, two Talons began making their way down.

Gritting her teeth, Miranda's light jog up the stairs turned into a sprint, meeting the turians halfway. They froze instantly, confused at the sight of a free human on this planet.

She ended their confusion with a pull of the trigger, two bullets to each of their heads. Bluish-black blood dripped down the steps as Samara and Mordin followed the 'perfect' woman, but Kasumi hesitated as she looked at the bodies. Chills ran up her back as she pulled her focus back to the job at hand, and pursued her comrades, the backpack filled with explosive charges sat heavily on her back.

_Should have retired… Gone somewhere nice to settle down and relax. But noooooooo. Little Shepard had to get his butt kidnapped. _Kasumi grumbled about in her head, _He better thank me for this._

The top room was surprisingly filled with Talons, at least a dozen and a half, either on guard or watching their scanners nervously for any more ships. Needless to say, the small team killed the first few easily, but the remaining commandos did the one thing that they were trained to do best.

Fight. Organized and efficiently.

Bullets flew back and forth inside the control room, forcing Mordin to squeeze as much of him as he could behind his cover. Poking out briefly, the former STG fired three quick shots from his pistol at a turian behind a computer, before ducking back down.

Glancing left, he could see the overly calm asari justicar, skin a faint purple from a biotic barrier, ignoring any cover as she slowly walked towards the closest enemy.

The Talon growled and raised his rifle, pouring rounds into the asari, only to have his bullets deflected. Her eyes narrowed as she grabbed the rifle from his hands and tugged, easily pulling it from his fingers. Tossing the weapon away, her slender hand then went for his throat.

"Find peace in the embrace of your spirits." She murmured as she crushed his windpipe with a burst of pure energy.

The remaining commandos then focused their fire on Samara, forcing the justicar into cover.

Miranda took advantage of the new distraction and grabbed a disc-like grenade from her belt. Tapping the primer on the top with her thumb, the woman threw it as hard as she could

Cutting through the air, the explosive latched onto the nearest Talon's armor. Losing focus, the alien's eyes found the grenade stuck to his breastplate.

_Three… two… Boom._

An orange fireball engulfed the soldier, along with his remaining comrades. Dropping her gun, Miranda placed a hand to her ear, "Jacob! What's the status on those guns?"

Gunfire filled her ear for a moment, followed by an explosion, but the man's voice came on clear, _"Ran into a bit more resistance than predicted. Zaeed took a round to the leg, but he'll live. There ain't no way we can reach the gun." _Miranda walked toward the front of the control room, gazing out the main viewport. You could make out the prison in the distance, and the gun Jacob was going after._ "They've locked down the main doors, and there's no other way 'round it."_

Complications. She _hated _complications. Drifting downwards, the woman found the targeting computer before her, still intact. Its screens gave off a bright yellow glow of life; text ran across it like ants, showing everything was running at optimum capacity.

A malicious grin creased her flawless cheeks. "Jacob." She started as her fingers ran along the controls, bringing up the targeting computer. "Pull your team out now and get to minimum safety distance of a couple hundred yards."

"_Miranda…" _The soldier began, before firing upon an enemy. _"…what are you planning?"_

Ordering Kasumi to forget about planting the charges, Miranda took control of the AA gun, "You have two minutes to get out of there, Jacob."

"…_Ahh crap."_

* * *

"_Keelah_…" Zaael gasped as his silver eyes fell upon the horror in front of him.

Hundreds of bodies filled the room and upper levels, all asphyxiated. Human faces were still blue, turian eyes went black with death, salarians were pale, and the few krogan were still twitching.

With the door open, air forced itself into the wing, where only moments ago had been a vacuum. Some of the guards were dead as well, either unable to grab their masks or weren't given prior warning.

Halach and his men moved past the bodies carefully, some prodding them with their feet, making sure they were dead. The former officer clicked his mandibles as he lifted his rebreather and took a breath of the breathable, albeit thick air.

The reek of death was pungent.

Simply walking into the room, Zarr found the first living guard, slumped in the corner. He didn't move or even react at the presence of armed convicts. His blank eyes behind the rebreather found the krogan standing before him, before going back to the ground.

The clan fighter turned criminal lifted his shotgun and grinned.

"Weak."

Barking in his hands, the weapon threw lead into the disoriented guard, killing him instantly.

"Was that truly necessary?" Shepard asked as he appeared next to the krogan, grabbing the thermal clips from the slain alien. "He wasn't going to fight back."

"_Yet_. Once he got his wits about him, then what? He woulda cut us down if he got the chance."

Carrick huffed, unimpressed by the brutal scene. "Yeah, because shooting someone in the face at point-blank range really solves every problem."

Hell, the old man killed hundreds of people himself, but even he didn't shoot shell-shocked noncombatants.

"We krogan have a saying…" Zarr growled as he turned back, "If something is still breathing, it's still a threat."

A sick chuckle from the biotic batarian came in. He grinned and gave a respectful nod to the large alien, "I can live with that mantra." His four black eyes found another guard, this one obviously dead. That didn't stop him from shooting the body. "These pricks treat us like shit, might as well make sure they get what's comin' too."

Forming back up, the hopeful escapists marched towards the end of the room, with Zaael leading. His eyes were locked upon his omni-tool, carefully following the map that was displayed. All they had to do was get past this door and go through a series of halls, and they would reach the shuttle bay. With it, freedom.

Then a familiar sound filled the quarian's ears, right through his helmet. His built-in VI whispered in his ear.

_Warning: Hostile automated defenses active._

Darting towards the ceiling, the migrant froze. Two cold turrets revealed themselves from alcoves within the metal, their cold barrels finding organics, and locked on.

"_Prisoners, drop your weaponry and return to your holding cells. Lethal force for containment purposes has been authorized."_

"Like hell we will." Shepard hissed as he placed a firm hand on Zaael's shoulder. "Anytime would be lovely…"

Fingers tapping with precision across his tool, the alien grunted back, "I know, I know…I'm doing my best here."

A low hum of the turrets' firing systems warming up caused Lankos and the others to take a step back in fear of getting gunned down. They couldn't run, since two more turrets behind them activated as well, all aiming for the inmates.

Boxed in.

"Zaael…" Shepard said nervously as he glanced back, his grip on the gun in his hands tightened.

"I know!" He shouted, trying to get access to the security systems. It was in vain though; the remaining VIs within the prison locked him out. Cold sweat ran down his back as the quarian stared at the turrets.

A calm voice interrupted the tense situation, and the turrets immediately retracted. "Dismiss directive."

The turrets retreated back into the ceiling.

Everyone turned to the source of the voice, upon the far staircase that led to the upper holding cells. At the top, stood a turian in bright red armor, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Behind him, four guards, rebreathers over their faces.

"Hello, Commander Shepard." Warden Halan Tordun greeted as he slowly made his way down the stairs, each step more methodic than the last. A shotgun rested in his talons, but his pointer was kept away from the trigger. He carefully pushed past Zarr, who came to meet him with a growl, and approached the former Alliance officer with a hand extended. "Good to meet you again."

Shepard tentatively returned the handshake, "Just wish they were under slightly better circumstances, Warden." He glanced at the man's guards, who were carefully coming down the stairs, "Any reason why you haven't put a bullet in my ass yet?"

The smile on the turian's face faded, "I'm not lookin' to kill heroes. And before you ask, I didn't do _this_." He waved a hand back towards the dozens of bodies around them. "I didn't cut the air to the facility. That was Farrax, sick bastard."

"Is it like this all over the place?" Carrick asked with a brow raised, eyes sizing up the four guards that were with the Warden. All turian, of course, heavily armed. Blue blood stained their armor that wasn't theirs.

Tordun nodded with regret stinging his voice, "I didn't order it. With everything that's happening on the outside, he acted rashly."

"Wait…what?" The Spectre's brow creased with confusion, "What's happening outside the prison?"

"A section of the Alliance fleet appeared in the system and dropped a team of marines to the south of Last Dawn, probably after you." Tordun sighed. "Probably couldn't tell though, no damn windows in this place."

"FREEZE!"

Twirling around, Tordun told his men to duck as he yanked back on the trigger of his rifle. Fire spewed from the barrel as the rounds hit their mark. The shields of two waiting Black Talons. Reacting, the Warden's men turned on their knees raising their guns and firing as well.

The commandos' shields flared white and failed with a flash of energy before blood sprayed from new holes in their breastplates. Gore dribbling from his mouth, the first turian fell to his knees and slumped over. The second hobbled for cover, the body of a dead krogan, huddling behind the hulk.

Orange liquid dripped from the corpse as the Warden marched towards the body, firing bullet after bullet into the Talon's impromptu refuge. A pistol wobbled up over the krogan, firing blindly back in the direction of the Warden. Calmly, the turian sidestepped and held his breath, bringing his eye up to the iron sights of his weapon. With one pull, the shotgun kicked and spat a spray of bullets, which found the Talon's chest.

Silence took place for only a moment, before a commanding voice echoed through the prison. It was Farrax's.

Eyes going wide, the Warden ran for the Commander as he brought up his omni-tool, "Shepard, go! I'll open the doors, head straight for the shuttles! Fly low and get the hell outta here!"

The door guarded by the automated turrets opened, and the human hesitated, "What about you?"

"This is _my_ prison." Tordun stated with the grin coming back. "I'm gonna take it back."

Zarr charged through the door, followed by Zaael and Keelan. Halach paused and gave the fellow turian a nod of respect. "You're braver than most, Warden."

Shepard saluted the alien before rushing through the door, it shut most of the way behind him, jamming before it could shut completely. The man's eyes scanned the group of escapees quickly, and one was missing.

Where the hell was Lankos and the other batarians?

* * *

A round slammed into Randy's chest, bursting his shields and slamming into his breastplate. He tumbled down the sand, teeth gritted so hard he thought they might break at any moment.

The pain was terrible, the lack of air in his lungs was even worse.

_God damn it! A good leader doesn't let this happen._

"LT!"

The officer looked up to find Jane shoving a thermal clip into her sniper rifle, her usually cold eyes warm with genuine worry.

Wiping sand away from his black armor, Randy glanced at his shoulder pauldron, where a silver stripe ran down the length of his arm, stopping at the top of his gauntleted hand. The stripe signified he was a First Lieutenant. A leader.

_Act like one!_

Bringing out his best fake smile, Randy grabbed his rifle from the grit beneath his boots and climbed on all-fours back up the dune. Back up into the fight. Back up into hell.

And this was just the start of the operation.

Lifting his weapon to bear, Randy let controlled bursts loose at the approaching Talons. The commandos realized their numbers weren't great, so about a dozen turians made their way towards the team's position.

As another bullet whizzed by him, Randy shouted into his radio, "Can I get some air support or reinforcements or something!?"

"_Lieutenant Crowe, this is Admiral Hackett. I'm ordering for an orbital strike. Give the SSV __**Khe Sanh **__the coordinates, and she'll take care of the rest. Once the skies are clear, the cavalry will come in. Hackett out."_

"Thank you, sir!" Randy cheered, and then he began to laugh like a madman at the good news. Tank took notice.

"Something pleasing, I hope?" The largest member of the group gave a nervous grin as he downed another commando, blue blood staining the hot sand. "I hope you aren't going bonkers, sir."

"We just got clearance for an orbital strike." He tapped his visor once, bringing up the targeting designator. The two turrets at the far end of the prison were out of eyesight, but the closest two were well within visual range. Clearing his throat, Randy's eyes locked in on the first AA emplacement.

"_Khe Sanh_, this is Lion Four-Six, I need an immediate strike at these coordinates…" He squinted as the visor fed him the coordinates. "Alpha-two-niner, and Zulu-five-five. Hostiles close and friendlies even closer! I need you to be a goddamn surgeon, over."

Yuri's accented voice replied calmly, _"Roger that, Lion Four-Six. Keep your head down."_

Hearing the transmission over her own radio, Ashley knew what was coming up next. She screamed at the top of her lungs for everyone to get behind the dune and cover their eyes.

Ten seconds past, and what sounded like thunder ripped through the sky, followed by what felt like the largest earthquake in history. The following shockwave _lifted _Tank into the air and tossed him further down the dune, cursing in annoyance.

Chunks of smoldering metal flew overhead like missiles, leaving gray smoke trails behind. The smell of ozone filled the air, making Doug squeeze his eyes shut and groan at the horrible odor. "Hate that smell, man. Makes me wanna puke."

"_This is Lion Lead; can I have confirmation of a direct hit to the south and east?"_

Crawling towards the top of the dune, Randy tentatively craned his head to get a look. There wasn't much of a building left, just melted metal and black smoke rising into the sky like a tower. Burnt bodies were strewn everywhere, broken and mangled from the initial explosion. Two fingers found his radio.

"Oh yeah, Lion…" He replied, suddenly tired. "You're clear to the south and east. Keep low."

"_Roger that. Looks like you'll get your reinforcements."_

He could tell the pilot had a silly little smirk on his face.

"Day late and a dollar short, pilot." He stood tall and looked back towards his team, "Let's move!"

* * *

"Why are you staying behind, batarian?"

Lankos gave a tiny chuckle. "You said Farrax was the leader of these guys, right?"

"Yeah, I did." Tordun nodded slowly as he checked his shotgun for the final time.

The biotic grinned as he let his element zero-borne energy run through his veins, lighting his dark brown skin a vibrant blue, his four eyes a bright white.

"Good." He finally stated as he held his pistol with care, aiming for the far doorway.

Lankos' batarians knew loyalty only to him, so they stayed as well.

Loud footfalls of boots resonated down the adjacent hall, slowly getting louder. Guns were cocked, thermal clips were forced in. Then silence.

A white flash, blinding the Warden, batarians, and prison guards.

"Flashbang!"

Tordun slid behind the table as gunfire ripped through the air. He heard the wet smack of a bullet colliding with flesh, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. It was one of his men, he _knew _it.

As his vision cleared, Tordun shot up and returned fire. An older Talon took his bullets, his shields deflecting most of the rounds. For a brief moment, he saw Farrax.

Lankos howled with excitement as he threw a hand out, lifting a turian into the air, before slamming him straight into the ground. Feeling the pleasure of taking life again, the alien criminal charged forth and lifted another Talon in his biotic grasp. Crushing him, Lankos tossed the mangled commando into his comrades, riddling them with bullets as they tumbled to the floor.

_Too easy._

Turning round, the batarian simply tossed the next few commandos into the air, letting gravity carry them to their deaths. Adrenaline rushed through the batarian's veins as memories rushed into his head. The next two Talons he killed reminded him of the C-Sec officers he took out all those years ago.

"Look out!"

Lankos ignored the warning as he shot wildly at the falling aliens, enjoying himself.

A single, clawed hand grabbed the batarian's neck and lifted him off the ground. Kilhai Farrax smiled as the alien within his grasp growled in pain and annoyance, only to be silenced as he twisted hard. Lankos froze and went limp, his energy faded, his formerly blue skin going dark.

Screaming, Tordun and his remaining men diverted all fire to the Captain, but his shields deflected every projectile, sweeping them aside as if they were annoying flies. Tossing the dead criminal away, Farrax turned with a sick little grin.

Tordun froze as he looked at the Captain's eyes. They were his usual gray, but with they seemed…_empty_.

Farrax raised his pistol and fired at the closest guard. The bullet burnt straight through his shield and split open his skull, bone fragments and blood covered the floor. He aimed for the second and third, just one bullet for each of them, and they fell dead as well. The batarians turned to run, only to get cut down by other Talons.

Dead eyes turning to his former partner, Farrax holstered his sidearm with a grin and charged.

Dropping his weapon, Tordun grabbed the combat blade strapped to his hip and brought it up. He lunged forward, the tip aimed for the crazed Captain's throat.

Flowing _around _the knife, Farrax grabbed Tordun's arm and dropped his elbow downwards, snapping the Warden's arm like a twig. Not even letting the man scream in pain, Farrax wrapped the claws on his right hand around his throat and lifted him off the ground with ease.

Ignoring the pain from his shattered arm, Tordun hissed as his uninjured hand came up, trying to loosen the death grip on him. "You're…You're not _natural_. What the fuck happened to you?"

Farrax gazed into the Warden's eyes with little emotion at first, but it gave way to a chuckle, "They made me better, don't you see? _They _helped me…"

"You're insane…" Tordun gave a raspy wheeze as air became scarce in his lungs. "You don't serve Palaven anymore."

His empty eyes flared, and Farrax's grip tightened. "I serve a purpose greater than any one planet now. Something bigger than just the turians."

Tordun looked towards the door, to see Shepard's feet beyond the small gap between the door and the floor. The human was trying to reopen the door…

Farrax followed his gaze, looking over his right shoulder. His eyes widened, as if he knew his target was on the other side.

"SHEPARD RUN!"

"Shut up!" Farrax roared as he brought Tordun to the floor hard, before raising his boot high in the air. The Warden gave a surprised wail as Farrax's heel came down, _crushing_ the man's skull with sickening crunch. Wiping the blood off his footwear, Farrax turned to the door.

* * *

"Run!" Shepard screamed as he turned on his heels and began a dead sprint down the hall, nearly knocking over a turian.

"The hell are we running from?" Tarlan asked, who was scanning the area ahead with his gun.

Zaael knew better than to ask and grabbed the hesitant prisoner by the collar, "Just do it!"

An explosion, followed by a rush of smoke and debris, filled the long hallways. Shepard heard gunfire from Halach and his turians, the officer shouting commands to his men to keep together. Keeping his eyes locked forward, the hall split in two directions. "Which way, Zaael?"

Bringing up the map again, the quarian only needed to glance. He made a mental note that they were right above the pits. Grimacing, he shouted back, "Right!"

Following his direction, Shepard was the first down the designated path, and right into a shut door. This shouldn't be here. He'd been over the map a few times with Zaael, and there were no doors within the hallways, or at least there shouldn't have been. Yanking the rifle free from his back, Shepard turned and fell to one knee, "Get this door open, now!"

Keelan appeared out of the smoke and grabbed Shepard's jumpsuit, dragging him away from the door. "Let me handle this."

Backing up several feet, the alien pulled the rocket launcher from his back, and took aim for the center of the metal portal in front of them. He yanked on the trigger, and the rocket launcher kicked back like a pissed-off bronco in response. Nothing. The rocket did little damage, only leaving behind a bit of smoke and a black stain on the wall.

Keelan turned back to see a large squad of turian prisoners making a strategic retreat, chucking grenades and keeping up a hailstorm of fire as they backed up the hallway, expecting an exit.

Halach broke from the crowd and rushed towards Shepard, yelling over the gunfire right in his ear, "We can't hold here! Talons are breaking through, we _need_ to move!"

Peeking around the corner, Shepard grimaced. Talons were approaching, chipping away at the turian prisoners. A false smile crawled across his face as he turned back to Zaael and Keelan. "What's below us?"

Glancing at his tool, Zaael nervously replied as a bullet ricocheted off the far wall, "The pits. Right above the pits."

Shepard's eyes found the explosives junkie, "Make us an elevator. Now."

"Pits, comin' right up, or down in this case." Keelan chuckled.

With that, the human rounded the corner and let loose his rifle. Barking in his hands, the weapon's offspring found the shielding of a waiting commando, who stumbled backwards from the repeated impacts, crashing into a second ally. Other commandos took notice, and formed a phalanx around the two downed comrades, protecting them with their collective shielding.

You had to give these guys credit; they weren't at all like roaming mercenary and pirate groups out there, who would just leave their own behind if they were hurt or hindered in any way.

Talons worked as a team, as a collective unit working towards a goal. Sadly, despite Shepard's admiration, that didn't make his job any easier.

A round cracked Shepard straight in the chest, sending him to the ground.

He heard Carrick shout something, but Shepard couldn't tell what he said. Lazily, the Commander lifted a hand and pressed it where the impact took place. Good. His armor held strong. _Barely. _

Struggling back to his feet, the human could hear a quarian voice call out, "Fire in the hole!"

* * *

Farrax shoved Antalus out of the way, and raised his gun. With a pull of the trigger, a turian prisoner had a new hole in his chest, blue gore spilled forth and covered the ground.

The ground rattled from an obvious explosion, and the prisoners began to retreat. Growling, the Captain picked up the pace as the hostiles in front of him began to fall back. _Nobody _ran away from a Talon and lived to tell about it.

A wounded prisoner, with his leg mangled from gunfire, rose to his feet and slashed at the turian with a cheap shank. Farrax's claws slashed across the inmate's throat, spraying blood across the adjacent wall.

Zaael frowned. This was his only chance. He _had _to take it. To reclaim what was rightfully his, but Shepard insisted that he go down the hole before him. Rolling his eyes, Zaael merely said 'sorry' as he shoved the human down the man-sized cavity. Then he turned, to find the man who dragged the quarian into this hellhole that was given the name of Last Dawn.

Kilhai Farrax stood before him, no emotion on the turian's tattooed face. Anger flared and filled every fiber of Zaael's body. This _bastard_ had set him up, murdered a young girl from the Fleet and took him to jail for defending himself. And he stole his father's blade and stabbed him with it.

Come hell or high water, Zaael was _taking _his knife back.

The quarian drew his pistol and fired a burst of shots, all deflecting off Farrax's shielding. He just stood there, unmoving as his gray eyes looked over the alien in front of him. As if calculating, trying to figure out how to respond.

A tiny smile split the Captain's lips. "Ah. I remember _you_. Zaael'Mirku vas Tonbay. Esteemed member of the Migrant Fleet, highly respected among your fellow vagrants. Shame you had to ruin such a promising career by…what do humans call it?" He scratched his chin, grin still on his face. "Screwing the pooch by killing one of my men?"

Taking a tentative step back, the quarian glanced downward, finding a blade tucked into a sheath attached to the turian's boot.

_My blade…_

Licking his lips, Zaael knew he'd have only one shot at this. Raising the pistol above his head, the quarian said a silent prayer as Farrax approached with an extended hand, taking it as a motion of surrender.

Rearing the arm back and snapping it forward, Zaael let the pistol fly. It cracked right between the eyes of the Talon commander, sending him backwards. Dropping to the floor, Zaael stretched out and wrapped his three fingers around the weapon that was rightfully his.

Claws wrapped around the collar of Zaael's enviro-suit and yanked the quarian off the ground, the knife slipped right out of his grip as he came face to visor with Farrax.

The seemingly possessed turian looked at his feet and brought his spiny teeth to bear. "You want your knife so badly?" He mocked as he held Zaael in place firmly, even as the quarian struggled against his grip. "Take it…"

Before the prisoner could react, his suit VI gave a loud warning as pain erupted in the pit of his gut.

"_Warning: Suit puncture. Abdominal region. Sealing off compromised areas and injecting antibiotics now."_

Eyes drifting downward, Zaael saw his father's own blade resting in the center of his stomach, hilt-deep.

A tight hand forced him to look up again. Farrax's grin died as he looked upon the quarian with renewed disgust. "Goddamn animals," he whispered, voice hoarse with rage, "deserve to be put down…" A snort, and a fake laugh, "Funny how it's from your own weapon."

Forcing himself to laugh through the fire in his abdomen, Zaael lifted a hand near the knife. "Hey Farrax?"

Freezing, Farrax's gray eyes dilated.

"Thank you."

Gore sprayed free as Zaael forcibly tore his own knife from his stomach…and drove the blade upward, slashing across the left side of the Captain's face.

An almost animalistic scream rose from the Captain as his cheek was cut open, spilling blue blood. He threw Zaael down the hole the prisoners had created, both hands flying to the large gash tracing over his left cheek and mandible.

Zaael could barely feel anything, just the agony that ruptured from his stomach. He barely felt the fall down the hole. He barely felt the impact, the impact that cracked his visor, inciting now-muffled warnings from his suit's computer. He ignored them.

He had what he wanted, what had avoided him for years. Tightening around the knife, his fingers never let go of his father's blade.

Something grabbed him and lifted the quarian over broad shoulders.

Then darkness consumed Zaael's vision.

* * *

"Suppressing fire! Keep those snipers from shooting!"

Randy barely heard the order, but he sprayed bullets as he stood from the trench. He made a quick note to thank the coordinator of the ground crew, who got a team of engineers to dig up a trench so close to the prison.

Several died when setting up the defenses, though.

Dozens of other soldiers opened fire as well, rising up and firing before ducking back behind the safety of the sandy channel. Some stood still, firing their long-range rifles carefully, while others simply sprayed a hail of metal from large machineguns. A few were wounded and being tended to by various corpsmen, while dead bodies just laid still amongst the chaos.

The Lieutenant could smell blood, the hot air, and burnt ozone. All of which were mixed together in a cocktail to provide an odor few could describe.

He remembered arriving here, as his team had quickly approached the prison after dealing with the AA guns, but were pinned down by heavy sniper and machinegun fire. Once the majority of the force arrived, Randy had to direct them just out of the range of the heavy fire, or else risk a slaughter.

Once the two hundred marines landed and split to the east and south, several more Talons took up positions along the prison's outer walls and gates, laying down another wave of machinegun fire.

Memories of Randy's high school history class brought him to one particular event when he saw the sight. D-Day, the Allied landing on the beaches of France.

Usually, he would've ordered a Mantis gunship or two to hit the hostiles from the air, but Hackett forbade direct strikes on the prison, still concerned for Shepard's safety. And even _if _they had clearance, it wouldn't have been Randy's call. An Alliance Marine Captain took over the ground operations, leaving the Lieutenant relieved of his tactical command.

_At least if he screws up, the blood'll be on his head. _Randy thought morbidly.

Captain Elias Marshall popped off a few more bullets before sliding over to a nearby corpsman, who was tending to a beat-up Guns. She had taken a bullet to the shoulder, leaving her bloodied, but the woman insisted that she was still battle-ready.

"How many wounded do we got?" The Marine Captain hissed as a sniper round sliced overhead.

Jabbing a syringe of painkillers into the Gunnery Chief's arm, the corpsman yelled back, "Second squad got at least twenty-three dead, eight wounded. We got nine KIA, and not counting 'Miss Badass' here," he nodded towards Guns before continuing, "at least a dozen hurt."

Marshall nodded, those numbers were better than predicted. He'd expect these Talons to start making a push, but so far all they'd been up against was their sharpshooters. That left a small window for them to act on this, but if they just charged, he'd suffer heavy losses for sure. Losses he couldn't afford.

Marshall whistled for Randy, who was immediately at his side, "Yes, sir?"

"Get on the horn, we gotta make a move." Marshall started out, before his eyes found Randy's sniper. She lay prone in the sand, at the top of a low dune, firing back at the hostiles. Ash laid next to her, doing the same. But his eye caught the fact that Jane wasn't wearing her helmet, the headgear sitting in the sand next to her.

He disregarded the Lieutenant and stormed for the pair of shooters.

"Corporal, what the hell are you thinking?" Marshall shouted, "Get your bucket back on before a sniper takes your head off."

Ash turned onto her back to give the Captain a 'respectful' screw you, but a crack of thunder cut her off. The Captain was on his back with his helmet cracked in half, a pool of blood around his apparently cleaved open head.

_Shit. Shit shit __shit__!_

"Man down, man down!" She hollered, letting go of her rifle as she slid down the dune and ran towards the still form of Marshall. Jane kept on shooting.

The corpsman was over in a blink of an eye, and all he did was take one look at him before glancing over to Randy, a shocked look on his face. "He's gone, Lieutenant. Round burnt through his shields and kept on going."

That meant Randy was up next, to take over the force. Chain of command was clear.

Lose one man, you got to be the next one ready to take the reigns. Slowly going to his omni-tool, Randy punched in a command and took over what was Marshall's tac-comm frequency, where he was in constant communication with coordinators in orbit and squad leaders in the fight.

A swarm of voices filled the Lieutenant's head; a few were VIs reading out various updates, one was Second Lieutenant Sara Barrett, leader of the force attacking the prison from the east.

"_Captain, I need you to respond right __now__!"_

Randy felt two tons of unseen weight drop on him. Time to do what he trained for ever since he joined the Alliance, what his father always demanded. _Lead_.

"This is Lieutenant Crowe, Captain Marshall is dead and I've taken command. What's your situation?"

A noticeable delay over the radio occurred, probably Barrett's shock from learning that her CO was killed, or maybe she knew about Randy's inexperience. But it didn't matter now. _"Uh…roger that, sir. Turian forces have popped smoke grenades all over the area and my snipers can't see a thing. I've got over two hundred of them on the thermal scanner, sir. They just exited the main gate and are advancing towards our position."_

"Lieutenant!" Randy glanced to his right to find Doug and Tank firing in unison at an unseen enemy. The Texan kept on firing as he called out, "We got enemy forces making their way towards us. I'm countin' over…" He paused as thermals gave him the reading, "Jesus Christ… at least two hundred and twenty. They're carrying portable shield emplacements."

The Lieutenant went prone and crawled to the top of Doug's dune, rifle held in a vice-grip by his fingers. A cloud of gray smoke rose from the ground, concealing anything within it. One tap on his visor, and the veil was lifted by a thermal scan.

His heart froze. Hundreds of Black Talon commandos were advancing at a full sprint, some carrying shield devices, others heavy weapons. All heading straight for the marines.

_Crap._

"Concentrate fire on the ones holding the shields, don't let them get any cover!" Randy shouted, knowing that if they set up those portable emplacements, the commandos could have enough cover to hold their position and eventually advance.

If that happened, then Shepard was a dead man.

Raising his rifle, Randy's crosshairs found a pair of commandos setting up one of the shield emplacements, and he fired. His bullets caught the first Talon's shielding, forcing the soldier to turn on his heels and fire back with a pistol.

The alien wouldn't get to retaliate for much longer though, as Ashley popped off a round that fried the Talon's shields and shattered his kneecap. Blue smeared against orange sand, and the alien spat curses as he fell to his back clutching his wound.

A couple of his comrades immediately took notice and slowly made their way to assist him, keeping a suppressing wave of bullets over the Lieutenant and Chief, respectively.

Immediately going to his belt, Randy loosened a grenade and activated it. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Ash doing the same. He counted to three and then threw it over the trench, in the general direction of the converging turians. A series of blasts rocked the ground moments later; the officer was peeking over the top of his sandy cover and opened fire again.

A panicked male voice filled Randy's ears, _"Sir, left flank is getting hammered over here! We're out of grenades and have sustained heavy casualties! Requesting reinforcements!"_

Icy shivers ran up the man's spine as he heard those words. It reminded him of officer's training on Arcturus Station. Major Yurran's words still played out in his head.

* * *

"_Heh, decisions, decisions." The burly officer started out, eyeing each of the potential officer candidates in front of him. Randy was amongst them. "They can lead to an army's success…or utter downfall. And it's all up to you, the leaders."_

_A holographic image appeared, of a man in an olive green uniform, five silver stars on his shoulders._

"_The man you are looking at is a General from World War II, Dwight Eisenhower." With a snap of his fingers, the image faded. Yurran cleared his throat and dryly added, "He led Allied armies against the Axis powers. His decisions affected the outcome of the war, but these decisions came at a cost." _

_Another hologram appeared, a literal platoon of GIs stood before the Alliance officer hopefuls. "These men were killed in action while a part of Eisenhower's campaign in occupied France. Take a good, long look at 'em."_

_Silence passed for a moment. "Some were farm boys, just waiting to get back to their dog and girlfriend back home, others were fathers, some were just kids lookin' for a fight, and sure as hell found one." These images disappeared, and Yurran stood before his students. "Eisenhower knew people would die, but that didn't stop him from doing what was necessary."_

_He noticed two people start to take notes, and he quickly added, "__But__, he didn't just throw lives away. He made the hard choice, he made the choice that would cost lives but win a war. Which brings me to my next point."_

_Yurran stopped in the middle of the room, his hazel eyes sweeping over every man and woman. "You, as officers, __will__ lose people under your command. There is no avoiding that. If you aren't ready to handle that, then hang up your boots and turn in your rifle."_

* * *

"_Sir! What are your orders?"_

Randy didn't know where he was for a moment, but the din of gunfire and explosions brought him back to the real world. His finger found the transmit button, "Left flank, negative on those reinforcements. Begin a strategic fallback towards our position, over."

A delay, then the marine on the other end replied, _"Sir, I don't believe that's the best course of action. If we retreat, then they could outflank us! I highly suggest you send some-" _Gunfire interrupted his words, then static filled in.

Grimacing, Randy rose to his feet and grabbed Gordon, both now moving down the line.

The pair hopped over a team of corpsmen working on a wounded soldier, whose hands were torn apart from shrapnel. A bullet hissed overhead, forcing Gordon to spit an expletive as he ducked, nearly tripping over another marine. Randy ignored the bullets slamming into his shields as his eyes befell on his now-confirmed fear.

Over the small sandy rise, what remained of the left flank was in tatters. Several dead bodies, all Alliance, laid out. Some were mangled and burnt from grenades and other explosives, some just had neat, uniform holes in their heads. Among them, were a few Talons, with the rest of their force not far behind.

One turian, donning the usual black armor of a Talon and the yellow stripes indicating the rank of a Lieutenant picked up a wounded marine by his throat. The alien pulled a serrated blade and literally gutted the human before throwing him to side.

Gordon pulled up his pistol and fired, screaming, "Fuck you, you piece of shit!"

The bullets sizzled against the alien's shields as he turned towards the defiant techie, and lifted his hand. Several other Talons eyed the humans and soon let their rifles give them full attention.

* * *

"_Garrus! The AA guns are down, move in now while they're distracted."_

The turian immediately punched in the command, and the shuttle's thrusters came to life, propelling them to the distant prison. They'd have to get in quick, land on the roof, move inside, and find Shepard. Garrus glanced back at Tali, who confirmed Miranda's report.

"Three of the four guns are inactive," she reported as her silver eyes scanned the readings on her omni-tool. "The fourth is under our control."

Grunt ignored the quarian as he sat in his too-small seat, clutching his shotgun. His deep blue eyes eyed the convict Jack across from him. She'd been distant ever since the _Normandy _was disabled, distant and unstable. At least, more unstable than usual. It seemed she had been talking to _herself_ at times, unwilling or unable to speak to others.

Frankly, the perfect krogan didn't care, as long as she stayed the hell away from him.

The metallic voice of Legion reported, "Alliance radio operators have taken notice of our location. Suggest we ready evasive maneuvers, if they desire to use their own aerial defenses."

"Don't worry," Garrus assured with a wave of his hand. "They won't waste their ammo on us. They'll need it for the Talons."

Rumbling, the shuttle approached the prison, causing the VI to report in a somewhat aloof voice, _"Beginning approach run, now."_

Grabbing his sniper rifle, Garrus marched towards the main door, ordering his team to get ready.

* * *

Grunt wasn't pleased as he crushed the skull of yet another turian guard. The blue blood that covered his boots didn't alleviate his disappointment either. He expected a _real _firefight, not this. These warriors were supposed to be strong and deadly, but so far they proved of little challenge. And ever since they entered the prison, it was these aliens waiting to fight them.

Jack almost sensed his disappointment as she slammed a still-living guard against the wall with a wave of energy, "These aren't the Talon's numbnuts. Those bastards are outside fighting the Alliance._"_

The krogan just huffed, still not pleased.

A bullet slammed into his shoulder, sending sparks flying off his armor. He turned towards the shooter and charged. The fact that the enemy was up a staircase didn't slow down the tank-like beast, it only further enraged him. Still firing, the turian refused to move, either out of foolhardy bravery or fear.

Grunt's body sent the guard flying into the wall behind him, snapping his neck with a loud crack and forcing blood to pour forth from his gullet. Making sure he was dead, the krogan spat on the turian and unloaded two blasts from his shotgun into the limp form.

He pounded his chest and roared at the ceiling in victory, "I AM KROGAN!"

Legion ignored the soldier's hoots as its glowing optic scanned the area around it, searching for whether or not Shepard had been here. Consensus had been achieved, and the majority had agreed that this had been Shepard's wing, where he used to be held. The geth relayed its findings to the former C-Sec officer next to him.

"You sure?" Garrus questioned as he scanned the second floor of the room with his scope, making sure there were no hidden enemies.

"We can affirm that. Multiple bodies within this room denote the accuracy of an Alliance Marine and Council Spectre. Also, looks into their records also indicate our findings. Shepard-Commander was detained in this wing."

"Where did he go?" Tali eagerly asked as she glanced at the missing wall panel, the insides gutted and rearranged. It reminded her of the quick and dirty repairs she found on some of the older vessels in the Migrant Fleet. Were there quarians in this prison?

The geth merely pointed towards a door on the far end of the room, where several bodies, mostly prisoners, had piled up. Some bodies appeared more…_fresh _than others.

Garrus noticed this, and as he approached, he saw the wounds they've sustained. Each fresher body had a neat hole in the center of their heads. He'd only seen accuracy like this once before…

An explosion, followed by the sound of shrieking metal. "Go! Go! Go! Take 'em out!"

_Cerberus commandos._

His fears were confirmed as he slid behind a table and glanced towards the ceiling, where the blast had originated from. Several soldiers, dressed head-to-toe in black armor, descended from the ceiling from rappelling lines, top-grade weapons in hand. Black helmets were lined by two thin eye slits, glowing blood red. The golden insignia of Cerberus shone brightly across their shoulders.

Bullets shredded across the floor as Garrus' team took cover behind whatever they could find. The Cerberus operatives hit the floor and formed a loose circle, covering each direction with gunfire.

Jack panted as she hid behind a pillar, the metal slowly getting more and more dents from repeated impacts.

_So Jackie, looks like we're in quite a situation here, aren't we?_

"Again?" She hissed as her biotics flared with new rage. "What now?"

It chuckled. _Just thinking I could help you out. You know, even the score against these Cerberus boys, here._

Peering around the corner of the pillar, Jack saw more Cerberus soldiers moving in from the second floor, getting closer to Grunt. The krogan was too busy firing at the ones below to take notice. She couldn't believe that she was going to accept advice from a voice in her head. Cursing again, the convict stared at her feet, "How so?"

_Just attack them like you normally would. I'll take care of the rest there, Jackie._

Rolling her eyes, the former prisoner stepped out in front of a cell, grabbing the attention of the Cerberus ground team. She then lifted her hand and shot a missile of energy towards the center…then white light blinded the convict, but her ears picked up tortured screams before they were abruptly silenced.

Vision cleared, Jack saw a brutal sight of mostly disintegrated operatives before her, _mostly_.

"I did that?" All her life, Jack knew she had profound biotic abilities, but she never _vaporized _someone before. Hell, she didn't even know that was possible.

_Uh-uh, Jackie. That was me. Like it?_

"Fuck. Yeah." Jack grinned as her eyes found more enemies above, paralyzed by the sight that took place a level below. As she lifted her hands again, they began to scatter. "Oh no you don't!"

A wall of purple light swept the room, from right to left, but instead of lifting the bodies and hurling them everywhere, each Cerberus commando caught in its wake literally disintegrated. Limbs were burnt away from their owners, inciting wails of agony, only to be completely destroyed a mere second later.

One tried to jump over the railing, rather risking a broken leg than death, but his gauntlet got caught on it.

He dangled for a moment, screaming in terror as he looked at the fall below while a comrade near him was incinerated by supercharged energy. The man's screams turned into pleas for salvation, probably to some god, but his trapped hand was burnt way.

The man landed headfirst, snapping his neck, much to the satisfaction of Jack.

"Go to hell, you bitch!"

A gunshot rang out, and Jack felt heat erupt from the top of her head, running all the way down her back. Her knees buckled and she fell to the cold floor, eyes rolling back.

_Sorry Jackie…Didn't see him…_

Darkness.

"Jack's hit!"

Garrus ignored Tali's yelp as his crosshair's found the last hidden hostile and fired. The commando's shield died, his helmet crumpled from the impact, and he fell to the ground, motionless.

Jumping out of cover, the quarian activated her omni-tool and brought up her medical program, praying the convict was still alive. Her foot landed in a pool of warm blood. She took one, long look at Jack, and deactivated the glowing tool in her hand.

It was, surprisingly, Grunt's stubby hand that fell on her tiny shoulder, "There's nothing we can do for her, quarian. We have to find Shepard."

* * *

"Retreat! Retreat!"

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They were never meant to get shot down. Never meant to lose the left flank. Never meant to lose so many. Never meant to retreat, to run _away_.

_Marines never run away, _his father once told him, _they just regroup._

Well, to Randy, this sure felt like running away. Geysers of sand flew skyward as grenades and bullets rained down. A soldier in front of the Lieutenant fell to the ground, the back of his skull smashed open by a bullet, sending blood and fragments of skull into the orange sand.

Then another in front of him fell, then another. Gordon tripped over a body, forcing Randy to halt and help the techie to his feet before sprinting off again. His hand then flew to his radio.

"Any and all remaining units, head for the top of the dune marked on your maps. We'll make a defensive line there and push these bastards back." With that, he charged for the marked rise, the rising sand slowing down his sprint. He felt his shield shatter, and what felt like a hot knife cut into his back, forcing him to stumble forward. But he made it up the dune and onto the other side, readying his rifle.

But his finger refused to wrap around the trigger as his eyes found the carnage before him.

Retreating marines were getting cut down by Talons. One was crawling towards the line, legs apparently shattered, but he has pulled to his knees by a turian. The alien jabbed the barrel of his pistol against the human's skull and executed him.

The Lieutenant found another soldier, her leg blown off just below the knee. He saw two corpsmen just run by her, but not before relieving the woman of her gun, grenades, and spare thermal clips.

She was begging for help the whole time.

Dozens of others were still running away from the commandos. They were outmatched, outnumbered, and outgunned. Special forces against run-of-the-mill marines.

He dropped his gun as he felt all energy drain from him. Randy's thoughts became clouded and slow. Just looking around became an intense effort, his eyes found a part of his squad off to the left.

Tank was already firing at the approaching waves of Talons, with Guns at his side. His rifle barked again and again, spewing hot lead into any and all targets, until the gun abruptly ceased working.

The soldier pulled the trigger again, but the weapon didn't respond at all. His eyes stared at the sand covered weapon, and his meaty fist collided with the barrel.

Guns slipped in a new thermal clip and hissed, "The hell's the matter with you?"

"My gun's jammed!"

"That's not even possible," Guns replied with a huff. "I checked every weapon myself, there's no way a jam could happen."

Tank smacked his gun again, now oblivious to the firefight going on around him. "Yeah, well tell that to my rifle. 'Cuz it's not shooting!"

Giving the subordinate the 'gimme that' look, the woman snatched the weapon away from the burly soldier and checked the thermal clip receiver, to find it literally caked with sand.

"Well here's your problem!"

Yanking the pistol form his hip, Tank emptied the weapon into a charging Talon, "What?"

Guns tossed the rifle to the side and brought out her own, keeping two turians behind their portable shields. "You're not supposed to fill the damn gun with sand."

"Sorry ma'am, but you do realize this is a desert planet, right? Try to avoid sand."

Ashley silenced the two bickering squad mates as she slid next to Randy, "Sir, what now?"

With his heart pounding in his ears, all Randy did was stare at the Operations Chief. Doug appeared next to her, also asking for orders. The Lieutenant just stared back at his subordinates.

He barely heard the screaming Lieutenant Barrett in his ear, _"Sir! We are barely holding! We need orders!"_

Randy looked up at Ash, then at Doug. Then he removed his helmet and dropped it.

_Failure._

* * *

Peace.


	11. What Makes Us Less

What Makes Us Less

* * *

Keelan's description of the pits didn't come close to the reality of it…

The floors were covered in years worth of excrement, leaving whoever was sent down here to rot in a literal pile of their own filth. Plus there were plenty of bodies as well, from humans to krogan and anything in between, either long dead before Farrax cut the air or shortly after.

Mix the odor of shit and the reek of decaying flesh, it almost compared to what assaulted Shepard's sense of smell on Akuze.

_Almost._

Violent images flashed across the Spectre's brain, thresher maws ripping apart his entire unit. Marines with promising futures disemboweled right before getting devoured. And it was his fault. All of it was his fault.

Shepard forced his mind back to the present. No use dwelling on past failures. His eyes found what was once probably a quarian prisoner and a grimace wrinkled his cheeks.

Keelan spoke up, as if hearing Shepard's thoughts, "It's terrible, I know." He sighed, followed by an angered huff, "…And Farrax calls _us _the animals."

The group passed through the tunnels, hearing the dull roar of gunshots from the floors above, either from guards trying to keep order or Talons killing anything and everything.

But despite the noise above, it had been oddly quiet down in the pits, only the plodding of feet on the filth-covered floors gave off any noise. Shepard glanced back at Carrick, who had a wounded Zaael over his shoulders. His dark blood stained Carrick's uniform, but the man gave no complaint as he carried the alien.

Nearby, Tarlan kept an eye on his comrade's vitals via his omni-tool. His nervous eyes glanced at the device every other minute or so.

Shepard wished he could do more, but he knew quarians were susceptible to enough sicknesses already. His poking and prodding would only make it worse.

"Ferrin?" Halach called out, his eyes darting back and forth in the dark tunnel, peering down two dimly lit passages. More bodies lined the path, some looked fresh. "Which way now?"

The quarian simply pointed to the right, already knowing their path to the shuttle bay. Follow this passageway for a couple hundred meters and near the end there would be a ladder. It would lead to a maintenance hatch at the top, just go through it, and you had your way out.

The former turian officer nodded and lifted his weapon, clicking his mandibles as he carefully led the group on through. He didn't expect anyone to come after them down here, but the Talons were full of surprises. If they were willing to raid his private apartment on Illium by _climbing_ up hundreds of stories to get to him, then crawling through crap-covered tunnels wasn't out of the question.

Gritting his teeth, a seemingly-dead krogan rose from the floor, eyes blood red. It mumbled something incoherent as it rose to its feet. A bloodied turian, dead, lay at the krogan's feet, entire chest cavity apparently _eaten _out.

Halach shuddered as the alien's eyes fell upon him. It smiled, blue gore dribbled from its maw, confirming his suspicion. This thing _ate_ somebody.

Hands outstretched, the krogan muttered, "You don't know what it's like, bein' down here… You get so damn hungry. They don't feed you; don't even check up on you." He paced back and forth like a shark, eyeing Halach, then Shepard in turn. "I've been down here for months, lost track…" Its smile returned.

Pressing the barrel of his rifle against the prisoner's head right below his thick crest, Halach gave one warning. "Move to the side, krogan. Now!"

It just smiled and refused to move, all sanity long gone.

Shepard flinched as Halach pulled the trigger. His hands flew to his ears as the shout rang out a thousand times louder than usual, but Halach ignored the human and fired another bullet into the krogan's head. The tank-like alien began to laugh manically, not even taking a step back as a _third _slug ripped into its face, orange blood dripping from its tear ducts.

The turian officer growled and slammed the butt of his weapon into the insane creature, sending it to the ground. He let loose the weapon, holding his claw down on the trigger and released a full-auto hail of bullets.

Being as malnourished as the krogan was, its body's regenerative abilities wouldn't perform as usual. But Halach barely noticed, focused on tearing apart the monstrosity in front of him.

If there was one thing he hated more then cowards, it was krogan.

_Disgusting animals…_Halach grimly thought as Shepard tore the gun from his hands.

"Enough!" The human shouted as he grabbed Halach by the collar and shoved him against the wall. He held the turian there for several moments, before finally asking, "Are you good, or do you want to shoot it some more?"

Breathing in the foul air deeply, Halach forced the Spectre off of him and took his weapon back. His eyes glanced down towards Shepard's waist. The human held his rifle ready at the hip, ready to blow a hole in his stomach if necessary. Spreading his mandibles in a smile, the turian merely nodded.

"Then take point." Shepard ordered, pure ice in his voice. "No more shooting unless I clear it."

* * *

"Lieutenant!" Ashley covered her face as a plume of hot sand shot after her, but her gaze never left the man in front of her. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him, _hard. _"What are your orders!"

"Come on, sir!" Doug yelled, ignoring another plume of sand that rose into the air, not two feet from him. "I've got a girl, and I'd like to get back to her in one piece!"

Randy didn't move, just giving both of his comrades the 'thousand yard stare.'

Ash reached up to grab her commanding officer again, ready to give him an earful.

Until a hand grabbed her arm, and the woman turned to find Doug's eyes staring right at her.

He simply shook his head and picked up his rifle, getting back into the fray.

Sighing, Ashley frowned as her eyes found Randy again. There was nothing she could do for him. He was defeated.

She opened up her radio and turned back towards the battle, her rifle finding a Talon as she shouted orders. "Squads four, six, and eight, focus your fire on their left flank. They've been worn a bit thin! Push. Them. Back!" Ashley pulled the trigger, and a hail of bullets ended her enemy's life. Her shields took a beating from a wave of retaliating shots, forcing the Chief back behind the dune.

"_I'm guessing you're the one taking charge here?"_

It was Barrett. Ashley immediately replied, "I guess so, ma'am. No one else will around here."

A chuckle from the Lieutenant, _"I'll keep things under control as best I can. Keep your people alive, Chief. Barrett out."_

"Guns!" Ash shouted over her radio.

"_Yes, ma'am?"_

"Take a squad and flank around to the left. Catch 'em off guard."

"_Roger."_

Crawling back up, basic training kicked in. Her crosshairs fell upon the closest hostile and fired, forcing him back behind the large shield that Talon engineers set up. Growling in frustration, Ash smacked a new thermal clip into her overheating rifle and glared at the glowing blue wall with odium.

An orange fireball suddenly consumed the wall, along with the three turians hiding behind it. Ash turned to find Tank standing, a smoking grenade launcher in hand. His dark eyes found another group, roughly five Talons running toward the right. Mechanically, the large marine turned and fired another explosive shell.

They were flung into the air, one commando blown completely in half. Once the the few still alive hit the ground, one marine fired his shotgun wildly, screaming curses as he killed one after the other…

Then he apparently forgot his training as he ran out into the proverbial kill zone, the area between two warring factions where bullets would obviously be flying, to finish off the last Talon. Tank screamed at the young Corporal as he fired a quick burst from his pistol.

"Get back here!"

But the kid ignored him, approaching last living hostile before him. He raised his shotgun and uttered something…

A loud crack rang out and the Corporal's breastplate exploded in a plume of red gore. His head snapped backwards as he was thrown from his feet and hit the orange sand hard.

"Shit!" Tank hissed as he climbed to his feet. "Doug, Jane, cover me!"

With that the colossal soldier stormed for the downed comrade. Two Talons poked out from behind a shield emplacement and fired upon the exposed marine, only for the first one's head to explode from a rifle round. Tank smiled, knowing that shot was probably Jane's.

_Talented girl, that one. If only Randy could ease up on her._

He bent low and grabbed the injured combatant's collar, dragging him back up towards the Alliance's defensive line. Doug kept any eager Talons suppressed, holding his Revenant's trigger down hard enough to turn his knuckles ghost-white.

With the covering fire provided, Tank managed to get the kid back over the dune.

Ashley was the first one over, her eyes on the large wound to his chest, were blood was pouring over the cracked armor plating. The kid's breathing was ragged, his eyes darted left and right as if he didn't know where he was, and soon blood began to dribble from his mouth. Ash immediately screamed for a corpsman. One came by; literally covered in the blood of comrades she tried to save.

The woman took one look at the wounded marine at her feet and shook her head, turning away. An explosion rocked the ground, but that didn't stop the Operations Chief from standing up and grabbing the other woman, "Treat him!"

"It would be a waste of my time, Chief." She stated coldly. "Not wasting medi-gel on Case Fives. Got too many hurt over by sixth squad."

Case Five: Alliance Marine term for a wounded soldier beyond saving. Not worth the time or effort. In the most dire of combat situations, and if they weren't left to die by their compatriots or already dead from their injuries, then 'consented friendly fire' was called for.

A mercy kill.

As the corpsman ran off towards the screams of others hurt, Ash turned back to the kid on the ground, trying to speak. She knelt by him, feeling hot pain rip into her heart.

_Just like Eden Prime, where I had too… _An image of a gun in her hand flashed brightly in her head. Its barrel pointed towards the forehead of Private Second Class Nickolas Johansson, rifleman. Good-looking guy from some backwater colony, who just wanted something more than farming. A corpsman next to him ignored the kid, and he _begged _Ashley to stop the pain. But she could never pull the trigger.

Johansson died right there, bled out.

Pulling her back to the present, the kid before her pulled her in with his right hand, smearing crimson blood across her eggshell white shoulder pauldron. His bloodied lips whispered into her ear.

"D-Do y-y-you know Last Rites?"

Ashley was no chaplain. Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time she actually read the paperback Bible she always kept with her. Every now and then she'd glance at it to remind herself what she was fighting for and where she would go, but nothing too much.

Religion was looked down upon in the Systems Alliance, albeit discretely. Many thought religion would turn people into nut jobs if they took it too far.

Often she felt alienated because of her beliefs, but finding a kindred spirit here didn't make her feel any better.

"No…" She sadly whispered back, wrapping her hand around his. Knowing she couldn't do much else besides recite the only prayer that she could think of.

"Our Father, who art in heaven." He weakly joined in, knowing the age-old invocation. "Hallowed be thy name."

Tank sat there, looking lost. He kept silent as he solemnly watched the NCO and dieing marine before him.

"Thy kingdom come; thy will be done…" Blood filled the Corporal's mouth and he coughed, covering his face and visor, along with Ashley, in crimson. His grip weakened, his dieing voice faltered. "On Earth as it… as it…"

Placing both hands over his ruined chest, Ashley shut her eyes tight and finished. "As it is in heaven."

A gruff voice in her ear stopped the Chief from grieving for the Corporal she didn't even know. _"This is Captain Drescher of the __**Chicago.**__ I need to know who's in charge down there." _Ash quickly told him it was her, and then the Captain announced, _"I'm sending some help your way, Chief Williams. Keep a lookout for the Tenth Armored Division; they'll be moving in to assist your platoon."_

_An Armor Division? Thank God._

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir. Which direction are they coming in from?"

Drescher chuckled. _"Fast and low, Chief. Fast and low."_

Doug chimed in, hearing the exchange over his own headset. "No way…" He glanced over to Gordon, who was intently staring at his omni-tool, "Is he about to do what I think he's about to do? Is the _Chicago _even rated for atmosphere?"

Gordon grinned as his eyes found the rather large signature of the cruiser falling through orbit, straight for them. "We're about to find out."

Thunder drowned out the gunfire that had been going on for what felt like ages, only it wasn't thunder. Thunder didn't weigh thousands of tons in titanium plating, or have enough firepower to reduce several cities to rubble in an instant.

Marines and Talons alike turned and stared as the white-hot hull of the SSV _Chicago _plunged through the air, thrusters at full-burn. A _wall_ of kicked-up sand followed as the cruiser approached, and then was thrust forward, following the ship's wake.

A very rough yet icy calm voice came over Ash's radio, sounding like the man ate gravel everyday. _"Clean shoot, repeat clean shoot…"_

Several impacts rocked the sandy ground, followed by the man's rough voice again, _"…and touchdown! Werewolves, switch to thermal and start pickin' targets. You are cleared weapons hot. Hose 'em down."_

Then a familiar sound filled Ash's ears. She had heard it on so many different barren planets, on Therum, on Noveria, and on Ilos. The chattering coaxial machinegun, the thunderous boom of the main gun, and the constant growl of the engine. No mistaking it.

_The Mako._

Ashley wiped away the thick shell of sand that had accumulated on her visor and ordered over her radio, "All units cease fire and regroup. Tend to the wounded and grab some water and ammo. Let the Makos deal with our turian friends."

With that, she climbed to her feet and walked to the top of a dune, next to Jane and Doug. Below them, two large vehicles side by side were firing upon a running group of aliens, cutting them down with scything machinegun rounds.

Clouds of blue mist filled the air around another group of running Talons, followed by their bodies falling into the sand. Then a bright red fireball consumed the corpses, originating from the Mako on the left. The sight never made Ashley never so happy to see a Mako in her life. She actually smiled.

Doug on the other hand, was enjoying himself too much. He touted his Revenant over his head like a club as he hooted, "Yeah! Run you cuttlebone bastards! _That's _called superior firepower!"

"Can it, Martz." Ash ordered, grin still on her face. Sliding down the dune and walking towards the first Mako, she quietly inspected the machine. Its white armor had the standard 'M35' painted on its side and the usual dings and dents from combat, but this APC had a stylized werewolf painted on its side. It stood on two legs, with a large rifle in its clawed paws, smoke dancing from the barrel. 'Blood' dripped from its jaws and a distant full moon was behind it.

Below the beast, read; _10__th__ Armor Division. Werewolves._

The hatch to the Mako popped open and a man climbed up, waist and below still inside the vehicle. A helmet was strapped to his head by the chin, and a snaking mic waited by his lips.

His eyes found Ashley and he gave a respectful nod, "Chief."

Ashley nodded back, and smiled. "Good to see you guys. Glad you came when you did."

"Just happy to help." He replied with a voice of gravel. The same one on the radio not moments ago. "The name's Wittman. Mako Chief Wittman."

"Operations Chief Ashley Williams. Think we could get a ride, Wittman?"

The man brought a hand up to his helmet, listening in to a message from a subordinate. "Yeah…yeah alright. Mount up and get ready to move." He looked back at Ashley, "Love to. How many you bringing along?"

She called for Gordon and Jane, since the other two marines had been tailing her the whole time. With that she called out on her radio for Guns. "Kendra, you there?"

"Aye aye, Chief." The woman's voice was close. Ash turned to find her waiting at the top of a hill, blood dripping down her leg. Guns tentatively sauntered over, the limp in her gait obvious. "Ready to fight."

Wittman's eyes counted up the group of six before him. He nodded again as his eyes narrowed, finding a seventh man walking about. His armor had the yellow stripe of a Lieutenant, but he wasn't walking like an officer. It was as if he was a ghost, unaware of the others around him.

"Is he your LT?" Wittman questioned with heat in his voice, as if knowing that this man quit on leading his marines, now leaving it up to an Operations Chief.

Ashley eyed the man, confirming it to be Randy. A pang of sadness shot through her, but she pushed it aside. "He _was_. I'm in command."

Wittman nodded and turned back to the group of soldiers before him. "We can squeeze two of you inside; the rest gotta ride on top."

"I volunteer Tank to ride on top." Gordon stated, face deadpan.

"Why?" Tank asked with a grin, "Is it 'cuz I'm black?"

"No. It's because your giant ass would take up _three _seats." Everyone laughed at the techie's observation, even _Jane_, who always wore the façade of ice.

Climbing on top of the waiting APC, Ashley gave her omni-tool life and brought up a map of the prison, showing it to the waiting Mako commander. She told him they would move to the east, first to check up on Barrett's unit and then move for the shuttle bay, also on the east side.

"So how do you plan on getting through the wall here?" Wittman pointed at the large wall that surrounded the complex.

Rapping the large turret with her knuckle, the Chief replied, "You got a big gun on this thing, don't you?"

"So, you want us Werewolves to be the muscle, huh?"

"There a problem with that?"

"No. Just the way we like it."

* * *

"Where now, Legion!" A bullet hissed by Garrus' head as he screamed at the geth, who was staring at its surroundings and not at the Cerberus soldiers firing at them.

"One moment."

Growling, Garrus popped out of cover and scoped the first hostile he found. His sniper rifle went off, catching the man in the chest. Sliding back behind the pillar, Garrus cursed in his head as he jammed a new heat sink into his gun.

_Spirits be damned, robots can be hard to work with._

A chunk of his cover blew to bit's as a large round smashed into it, causing the former cop to hug what was left of it even tighter. While he was getting angrier and angrier at these operatives, it would seem Grunt was enjoying himself, glad to have a decent fight on his hands.

Smashing a table out of his way, the krogan walked against the tide of enemy fire, not caring about the rounds glancing off his armor or digging into his arms, drawing orange blood. He simply raised his shotgun and fired again and again, cutting down another armor-clad operative. The last Cerberus soldier picked up his own shotgun and pulled the trigger, only to find his weapon unresponsive.

He glanced up, to find a quarian standing on a catwalk, omni-tool aglow. "Fuckin-"

Grunt smiled, exposing his teeth as he holstered his weapon, cracking his knuckles. He took a menacing step towards the lone human, sending him into a panicked rush to grab his sidearm.

Another step, and the pistol was freed.

Another step, and the Cerberus commando yelled to stay back, which the krogan promptly ignored.

Another step, and the pistol was fired. Sparks flew of Grunt's breastplate, followed by a small stream of orange dripping from the new hole. The krogan merely grunted in amusement, not caring at all about the blood.

"Why." The human fired again, more sparks and blood.

"Won't." Two more shots, two more mocking chuckles of pleasure.

"You." The pistol ceased firing, indicating a need to change heat sinks.

"Die!"

Smacking the gun out of the man's fingers, Grunt wrapped his hands around his throat and lifted him off the ground. Images flashed across his eyes, images planted by Okeer when he was still in the tank. It was the 'proper' procedure on how a krogan should go about snapping a human's neck.

Grunt held the cowering human in his grip and answered his frightened question. "Because…I'm not designed to die."

A wrench of his hands and fingers, a loud snap, and the human went limp. He threw the body to the side and looked down at his feet. "That was for the bitch."

Legion's electronic speech filled everyone's ears, "Shepard-Commander located. Approximately twenty-five meters below and two-hundred meters east from our current position. He is traveling towards the shuttle bay of this facility, also to the east. Active security cameras show large amounts of prison guards and Black Talons fighting each other for control of the area."

Tali hopped over the catwalk's railing and dropped to the ground, "Then we shouldn't be wasting time. Shepard will be walking right into a firefight."

"Good point." Grunt stated as he glanced over at Garrus, who was still pressed against his bullet-riddled cover. "We should probably get moving, turian."

Relaxing, the former cop nodded, "Yeah…Legion, get that door open."

"I got it." Tali warbled, already leaning by the door controls. Her hands removed the control panel, the actual system smashed to bits by either guards or prisoners to keep others out. Wrapping her fingers around a bundle of ruined wire, she yanked it all out, gutting the system. Sliding her whole arm inside, the quarian fished around what she was looking for and grinned when her fingers found what she needed. Then it snapped.

Loudly.

"That didn't sound good…" Garrus said slowly.

"Whoops." The woman responded, freezing in place.

Grunt just laughed, enjoying all of this a little too much. Looks like the tech 'expert' made a mistake.

"Creator Zorah." Legion interjected. "If this platform could make a suggestion, simply place the circuit module back into place and this door should open."

Following his instructions, an audible _click _rang out, followed by a low thrum of power. The door parted, slightly at first, as if thinking about whether or not it should open, but it eventually gave way.

Legion walked through the door first, only to _halt _in mid-stride, his glowing eye going wide. A machine hesitating?

Grunt skeptically looked at the geth, until his eyes found the same thing it was staring at. "Damn…"

Garrus didn't say a word, his mandibles simply flaring in surprise. Tali turned the corner to find a whole room filled with quarian prisoners. _Dead _quarians.

Dark blood covered the floors, mixing in with each other next to the fallen people. Some quarians were slumped against the wall, next to each other, as if death by a firing squad. Others were sprawled out all over the place, indicating some fought back. But fought back against what?

Her knees went weak as her eyes found a lone turian corpse in the center of the room.

_The same black armor, same insignia._

Walking among the dead before her, Tali ignored Garrus trying to call her back as she approached the body. She shoved it over on its back and her fears were confirmed. While it wasn't Farrax, it was definitely a Black Talon, the dark, intricate tattoos confirming this man's allegiance and who was responsible for this _massacre. _

This went beyond _crime_, or _racism_ or _speciesism_. This was _hate_. Pure, unbridled hatred towards another race. Spread from one man's extreme views to his men.

Tali _knew _that all Talons couldn't be like Farrax, but she _knew _that they wouldn't go against orders, for fear of punishment or worse.

"When we find Farrax…" She hissed, nothing but blind rage in her voice. "When we…" The words refused to come out, her throat suddenly closing up.

Grunt finished, "We tear him _limb_ from _limb_."

* * *

Peace.


	12. Extraction

Extraction

* * *

"How you holding up, Lieutenant?"

Sara Barrett looked up to find a _huge _black male standing over her, his dark armor stained with sand, while his orange visor shined brightly against the scorching sun of this desert hellhole. She had heard the hum of approaching Makos, and the chattering of their guns as they forced the remaining hostiles to retreat back within the prison walls.

The woman stared down at her bleeding knee, shattered from a stray round. Grimly looking up, her eyes found several dead bodies, some Talons, mostly marines. _Her _marines. Swallowing hard, the officer looked back up at the man, "Could use a little medi-gel…and maybe some hard liquor."

The man smiled as his large hand went to his belt, and pulled out a syringe. With surprisingly gently fingers, he removed the plating around her shoulder and slowly guided the point of the needle through her skin.

Warmth immediately flowed through her veins, numbing the fire that resided in her leg.

Climbing to his feet, the man nodded at the officer before turning.

"Wait." Barrett grunted, halting the soldier, "You heading for the prison?"

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, you could almost _hear_ the confident grin in his voice. "Riding straight in with the armor."

Barrett smiled, "Good luck. Tell that Chief Williams she's got a good head on her shoulders. Kick some ass for me."

Tank's grin grew. "Oorah, ma'am."

With that, the man sprinted up the hill, picking up a working rifle as he went. Wittman's Mako was waiting on the other side of the hill, the vehicle's commander inside with the hatch sealed. Rushing down, the towering soldier dove and pressed himself against one of the large tires of the Mako, using the vehicle as cover from the prison's snipers.

He noticed Jane peeking around the rear of the APC, taking a quick shot at the prison before ducking back behind. A responding crack from the facility, the bullet bouncing off the Mako's shielding.

Doug, next to her, glanced through his visor that enhanced his vision. "Nice shot." The Texan then turned to Gordon, who was pressed against one of the wheels, pistol beside him in the sand as he tapped away on his glowing omni-tool. "Hey Alvarez, how long've they been in there?"

"Don't know." He simply replied, eyes locked firmly on his current fiddling.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

"Go in and ask them." The tech replied with irritation. "What are you, twelve?"

The Texan snorted, "What, you want me to get shot? And no I ain't twelve." With that he gave the techie a friendly shove, "Now come on, Gordon. What _are_ they sayin' in there?"

Rolling his eyes, Gordon slapped his omni-tool against the hull of the Mako, and the voice of Ashley came out.

"…_it's final, Kendra. You're banged up enough as it is. So you're heading back to find the LT and get the wounded aboard the incoming Titans."_

Guns' voice was bitter, _"So that's it? You just leave me behind and you go in to find Shepard?" _She faltered, her throat closing up. _"I'm a part of this too, Ashley. Don't sideline me now…"_

A voice of gravel butted in, _"Chief, your leg is messed up bad, and you've lost a lot of blood. Throwin' you into a confined prison with God knows what is practically a death wish."_

The woman didn't respond, only silence followed for a time before Ash spoke up. _"You're not letting anyone down Kendra."_

"_Yeah…" _She huffed, venom still in her tone. _"Leave that to Randy…"_

_Ouch._ Tank thought.

But she couldn't have been more right. The Lieutenant just shut down on them, sitting there while people were getting shot at. Doing nothing.

If Ashley hadn't taken command, well, it wouldn't have been pretty.

Wittman sighed, _"Drop the LT. He'll get sorted out later. Right now, we need to move. I've already coordinated a strike to take down the walls to the east; my boys are waiting on your go, Chief Williams." _The Mako's voice lowered as he muttered something on the radio, before he spoke back up, _"That was my boys along the flanks. We're all ready to go."_

"_Alright Kendra, out ya go."_

A hiss of the top hatch releasing, and out came a wounded Gunnery Chief. Quickly sliding down, she managed to duck behind the Mako as another round from a sniper popped off, slicing through the air she just occupied.

Guns held back a curse as her bleeding leg hit the ground first; a short hiss came through her lips.

Dropping his gun, Doug moved to the Chief's side, "You okay, Guns?"

She simply grunted as the woman struggled to stand, and the Texan helped her up with a nervous laugh, "Heh, not much one for conversation?"

A growl followed, "I got a bullet lodged somewhere in my leg, I've lost a good amount of blood, and I'm running on stims and medi-gel right now. Put all that on top of the fact that we are in the middle of a war zone and constantly getting shot at, and you get one bitch who doesn't feel like much for conversation. So, _sorry_." A brief pause, and her expression softened slightly underneath her visor, "And I think I got sand in some…_bad_ places."

The smile never left his face. "Well, maybe when were off this sandy rock, I can help clean out those places."

Silence.

Gordon looked up, a dumbfounded look on his face. About to peek around the rear of the Mako and line up a shot, Jane froze and stared at the Texan.

And Tank…well Tank just broke out in laughter. He fell to his side, meaty hands wrapping around his stomach as he sputters of amusement rose, unable to cease. After a few moments, the soldier tried to speak, "That is just…" More laughter. "Oh my god… Why would you…why would you even _say_ that?"

Suddenly regretting his words, Doug's grin died as he looked back into Guns' eyes.

_Oh lord…_

Guns' hand wrapped around the armored collar of Doug, and opened her mouth to say something, but words didn't come. Growling again, she shoved the soldier backwards, nearly sending him into the dirt.

And with that, she hobbled off, back towards what remained of the Alliance force, to corral the wounded and their former leader.

Ashley's voice came over their headsets, _"All teams, hit the wall! Go! Go! Go!"_

* * *

The shuttle bay was a complete hell.

Talons had turned on the prison guards, creating a firefight that destroyed the majority of the shuttles in the process.

And the large group of wannabe escapees didn't make the situation any better.

Shepard had seen the schematics to this room. A wide, long hanger bay that was supposed to be lined with catwalks and shuttles, all leading out towards the large exit at the end, wide enough to fit several shuttles going in and out. A vague memory of this area played out in his head, five days ago, when he was first dragged in here.

It didn't resemble any of that now.

Most of the catwalks had fallen, their frames twisted and destroyed from violent explosions. Several of the shuttles that were supposed to fill this hanger were either destroyed or gone, taken by cowardly guards or possibly by other prisoners with the same idea. At the far end, however, sat two shuttles. Pristine, untouched. And Shepard planned to get to them first.

"Carrick, Halach, take the left side, help the guards if they don't shoot at you, if they do, don't hesitate." The turian officer nodded and was about to get to it, but Shepard grabbed his shoulder, "I need three of your men."

Carrick set Zaael's unconscious form behind a thick wall of cover, and followed the turians, giving a nod to Shepard before moving on.

Silently, Halach nodded to three prisoners, and they moved to Shepard's side. Turning towards Tarlan and Ferrin, the man ordered, "I want you two on support. Take out the shields of whoever isn't friendly and take them down." They nodded, and Shepard turned to Keelan, "I want you to stay here and protect Zaael."

"What?" He replied, silver eyes going wide behind his dark mask. "You _need _me-"

"_I _need you to protect him. If you go a little wild with the explosives there and destroy one of our shuttles, then we all won't be able to get off, now will we?" Keelan stayed quiet as Shepard patted him on the shoulder, "He's practically your _brother _Keelan, practically a brother to every quarian that was in here. Keep him alive."

The muscular alien wanted to argue more, but no words came out. He relented and readied his gun. "No one is going to touch him."

Shepard smiled and turned to Zarr and the turians that Halach left him, "We're on the right side. Stick to cover and kick as much ass as you can. Let's clear a path and get the hell outta here."

Zarr stood up and took point, red eyes narrowing as he focused on a large group of Talons and a cocky smile split his lips. He squared up and dragged his right foot backwards like a bull, kicking dust up. And then he charged.

None of the commandos turned in time to fire upon the krogan, too distracted by the prison guards firing at them.

The first Talon was caught by Zarr's giant shoulder, sending the commando flying across the room. Turning on his heels, the krogan pulled up his shotgun, firing into the next commando, blowing off his arm at the elbow. Reacting, the other turians turned and concentrated fire on the largest threat, forcing the giant alien backwards…

This allowed the prison guards to open fire from the other side, putting more pressure on the Talons. Carrick and Halach appeared beside the guards, also shooting at the commandos.

The same men who were tasked with keeping the criminals on the inside were now fighting alongside them. Needless to say a nervous glance or two was exchanged between the lead Sergeant and his men before turning back to more pressing matters.

For now, a tentative alliance was needed.

Falling back, the final four Talons took up positions behind a wrecked shuttle, one turning the shattered cockpit into an impromptu machinegun nest.

Ducking low, Shepard sprinted, his head _just _under the waves of bullets that soared overhead. Slipping behind one of the wrecked catwalks, the Spectre ordered for the first of Halach's men to move up next to him. Hesitating at first, the prisoner sprinted for Shepard.

His head cracked open from a rifle round; blue gore lanced from the gaping wound and covered the floor instantly. The second one cried out in shock and huddled against his cover, fearing the same fate.

Tensing up, the Spectre rose and found the source of the shot. A lone turian commando, already wounded and pressed up in the corner of the room. His black eye's found Shepard and he lifted his rifle with one hand and fired.

A crushing impact, air forced from his lungs. The human's head hit the floor hard and his vision flashed with a haze of white.

_Static_.

His muscles tightened again, pure agony rushed through his veins. It was a familiar pain, something he had felt three times before.

Once on the Lazarus Research Station, where the Commander was revived by Cerberus after two years of being deceased.

The other two times were aboard the _Normandy_, first when it was hit with the EMP that disabled the frigate, and again when Kilhai Farrax jabbed him with that odd device, allowing him to be captured and dragged away.

_Do __not__ let it happen again!_

Shocks of pain still streaming through his body, the human lifted his shaking hand and forced it against the ground. Flipping himself over, Shepard felt the pain weaken, but not by much.

_Get up! You didn't come this far to die here…_

First a knee, then his foot planted firmly on the metal floor. With a roar, he forced himself back behind the fallen catwalk, static still washing over his eyes. When his back touched the catwalk, a loud pop rang out, followed by a fizzling hiss. Slowly, Shepard gained control of his limbs again, the pain itself began to subside. His vision was a blur, but he could make out a thin form before him.

"_Shepard!' _The accented voice bellowed, _"Get up!"_

At first, all the Commander did was stare at the form, just glad to have the static gone. Then the voice echoed through his eardrums again.

"Get up!" A dirty purplish suit greeted Shepard's clearing sight, followed by a dark visor with gray eyes staring from behind it. A hand wrapped around his collar, where a stubby thumb was poking out. It was Ferrin.

The gunfire had subsided quickly thereafter, followed by an eerie silence.

Jerking Shepard's collar again, Ferrin pleaded for the man to get off his 'scrawny, human ass.'

Shaking off the disorientation, the human rose to his feet and found his rifle, on the ground nearby. He turned to find Zarr standing over several turian corpses, a grin across his face as he shot a wounded foe in the head.

Slowly, Shepard's eyes found Carrick and Halach speaking to the few guards that were left.

"Thanks…for the help." The turian guard puffed, out of breath. He holstered his rifle and held out his hand. "Never thought I'd say that to a prisoner."

Carrick scanned the guard with his eyes before taking the offered hand…and twisting it _hard_. The alien screamed in surprise as Carrick turned the alien around and wrapped a meaty bicep around his throat before raising his pistol at the other two guards. Two shots rang out in lightning quick succession, and they fell to the floor with new holes in their craniums.

Sliding the gun into his waistband, the aged human whispered into the turian's ear as he held him in place, "Never trust a prisoner…especially the ones you _beat_ on daily basis."

A hard yank and the guard's neck snapped. He fell to his knees before hitting the ground face-first, completely still.

Halach didn't flinch, nor seem to care. "I would've just waited for them to turn their backs."

Carrick just huffed, "Please," he said curtly, "I'm no coward."

Staring down at the bodies of what Shepard believed to be allies, he wanted to _attack_ Carrick for what he just did. But his body refused to work properly, his strength drained. Couldn't even speak, all he could do was glare. A glare that was returned in full by the aging prisoner…who then smiled.

"All right!" He shouted as his smile grew. "Let's get a shuttle off the ground."

Ferrin forced his shoulder under Shepard's armpit, hoisting him upward. Surprisingly strong for such a thin-looking alien.

"Come on, Shepard…" Ferrin grunted. "Zaael took a harder hit than you and he's still alive."

The pair followed the group of inmates towards the far end of the hanger, towards the final two shuttles. Carrying his own wounded friend, Keelan brought up the rear, one hand stabilizing Zaael on his back, the other clutching his rocket launcher.

They moved for the waiting vessels, Carrick leading, giving sideways glances to both Zarr and Halach. He pointed to the first aircraft and called out to Tarlan, "Its systems are probably locked down, think you can unlock it and get the thing airborne?"

Tarlan almost snickered, "I was a part of the Migrant Fleet. We used to put ships back together that were centuries old. I can handle a few simple lockout protocols."

"Well quit bragging and get to it."

* * *

The voice of gravel filled her headset as it barked directions.

"_Gunner! Sniper perch, top of prison wall!"_

A second voice, male, but distinctly softer and not as rough shouted back.

"_Target acquired!"_

Ashley could feel the sand shift beneath her as the Mako's gun swiveled round and took aim for the gray wall of the penitentiary. Two turian snipers noticed this, rising from their not-so-well concealed position and dropped their rifles as they began to run.

"_FIRE!"_

The giant tires of the troop carrier dug into the sand, its gun belching fire while instantaneously the wall shock with impact of the shell, and _cracked. _Not some tiny little hairline fracture, but something similar to when you see an old dam about to break loose and release the floodwaters.

The younger voice came on again, _"Sir, snipers are down and we have clear passage all the way to the wall."_

Wittman's voice was approving. _"Good job, Corporal. Damn fine shooting."_ The hatch sprung open again, Wittman's helmeted head appeared, his eyes found Ashley and her team, "Chief Williams, stay on our ass! We'll kick down the doors…" He glanced back towards the facility. "Ehrm…we'll kick down the _walls _and walk you up the entrance."

He quickly retreated inside his vehicle, and its engines growled back to life and it pressed forth towards the wall at full speed.

And didn't stop.

Crashing through the already damaged fortification, the Mako created a monster-sized hole, the rest of the structure somehow staying intact.

Doug's amused laughter didn't break Ash's concentration.

Now wasn't the time to enjoy themselves. They had a job to do. And she was going to make sure it got done.

* * *

Halach followed his men into the first shuttle, Zarr not far behind. Tarlan was still inside, deactivating the final few lockouts that prevented anyone from piloting the vessel.

Turning back towards the center of the hanger, Carrick saw Keelan carrying Zaael on his back, slowly making their way towards them. The human smiled, he'd have plenty of time.

He shook his head as he glanced at Shepard, held up by Ferrin. "Sorry Shepard."

With that, he grabbed and primed a grenade that was clipped to his waist, and chucked it inside the second shuttle. Loud clanking rang out inside the vessel as the explosive canister bounced around before rolling to a stop near the cockpit. Two seconds later a boom followed, shredding the insides before incinerating them with fire.

Yelping in shock, Ferrin reached for the gun on his belt, "You son of a bi-"

Carrick raised his pistol. It barked, a single slug was let loose from its barrel.

The quarian's visor cracked in half and red blood flowed forth as he fell to the ground, Shepard followed, Ferrin falling on top of the Spectre.

"You think I don't know who you are, Shepard!" Carrick shouted, more of a statement than a question. "I _know _you're former Alliance and a Spectre nonetheless." Shrugging the now-lifeless body of Ferrin off of him, Shepard tried to rise to his feet but was kicked down to the floor by his fellow inmate. "My 'good friend' Zaael left that part out when he told me about you…luckily I was informed by our friendly guards of who you exactly were."

He knelt over as Keelan gently placed Zaael on the floor, rushing to protect the weakened Shepard, but Carrick already wrapped his meaty fingers around Shepard's throat and _lifted _him right up to his feet in one sweep. Rage flared in the old man's eyes, his hot breath smacked Shepard in the face, "You're thinking that you'd turn me in after all this was over? Huh? After all I did for you!"

"No…" Shepard replied, voice hoarse.

"Carrick! Drop him!"

The prisoner's eyes found Keelan, barrel of the rifle he held pointed for the man's head.

"Now!"

"If I ever see your face again, Shepard…" He prodded the Commander in the stomach, "I. Will. Gut. You. Like a goddamned _fish_."

Halach appeared out of the side door of the first shuttle, its engines finally humming to life. "Carrick, quit screwing around! Let's go!"

Dropping the Commander to the floor, Carrick turned and took aim for Keelan, preventing the quarian from taking a shot. He quickly disappeared within the shuttle, which flared its engines and lifted from the ground. Then Tarlan was thrown from the vessel, slamming against the hanger floor in audible pain.

A wake of heat fell over the abandoned prisoners as the shuttle turned for the large exit sharply, before flaring its engines.

And it was gone…just like that. And they were stranded.

Climbing back to his feet, Tarlan's eyes fell upon Ferrin, his fallen friend.

"Ferrin!" He yelped, immediately rushing to his side. "My brother…"

Getting up to his knees, Shepard couldn't do much but observe what had just happened. Ferrin was dead. Carrick, Zarr, and Halach had left them up to dry. But with strength finally returning, Shepard stood and took a deep breath.

Time for a new plan, or a little divine intervention…

* * *

Jane lowered her rifle and shook her head, rubbing a hand through her mohawk slowly. "Looks like we just missed the party, Chief."

A Texan's hushed voice gave a reply, "If this is your idea of a party, then you got a few problems." The soldier's boot came into contact with a slumped over human donning black and gold armor. Cerberus armor. Glancing across the block, more bodies were strewn about. Prisoners were easily discerned from the well-armored guards and Cerberus commandos. It made the Texan shiver. "My question is…what the hell were these guys doin' here?"

"Shut it." Ash quickly demanded, her eyes locked forward, hands clutching the rifle's grip tightly. The Chief pressed forward, ignoring the mass of corpses by her feet as she moved towards the far door, Tank by her side the whole way, the large marine holding his own shotgun.

Grimacing, Doug glanced over to Gordon, who just shook his head and checked his omni-tool with grim eyes. This place was in horrible shape, either from the recent riot or before.

Several viruses were found within the prison's systems; many of the operating VIs were corrupted and tore apart several programs from the inside, while the few left unharmed were struggling to keep everything from falling apart. Gordon marveled at what these things managed to do in a relatively short amount of time. Whoever unleashed these things, knew computers better than even him.

It was a humbling and awe-inspiring feeling.

_God, I'm a total nerd. _He thought, holding back a smile.

"Hey, Gordon."

The techie looked up, finding Ashley pointing towards the upper level. "Yeah, Chief?"

"Is that a security station?" She pondered aloud.

"Aye, ma'am."

"Good." Turning for the stairwell that led up, Ashley nodded the man over. "Get up there and hack into security. We don't have time to sift through this whole station to find… to find Shepard…"

Taking her odd hesitation into account, Gordon expressed his doubt. "Chief, my scans of this place show nearly every system either fried, corrupted, or repurposed for defense against viruses. A working system will be hard to-"

"Do it, Alvarez." Her voice became ice. "That's an order. Tank, go with him."

The hulking soldier trotted up the stairs, followed by the techie. Inside the station, Gordon sat down in the seat in front of the main terminal. It was awkward sitting in such a thing.

_Damn thing was designed for a turian's ass._

Tank couldn't even fit in the seat, so he opted to watch the door.

Bringing up the user interface, which was littered with warning messages, Gordon asked Tank, "Soooooo…what crawled up Ash's ass and promptly died there."

"It's Shepard…" The black man simply replied as he lifted his orange visor to wipe sweat from his eyes. "She doesn't want him hurt. Plus we're in the middle of a prison filled with killers and rapists, so forgive her if she's trying to keep everything professional and running smoothly."

He had a point there. Gordon was relegated to the Tech Corps after boot camp, denying him frontline posting to volatile colonies or the like. The worst he had to deal with for the longest time was an annoying security VI. Needless to say, he didn't have an officer or Chief down his throat every other moment. Maybe he just wasn't used to working in the field yet.

"But still, Tank." He continued as he brought up security cams. Of course they were offline. Cracking his knuckles, the techie did what he did best.

"But still what?"

"Whenever Shepard is brought up, and the fact that he could be in danger, she becomes an ice queen."

Tank smiled as he lowered the visor over his eyes again. "Are you really that thick, man?"

"What?" Gordon shrugged, eyes locked on the glowing terminal before him. "I barely talk to anybody during our downtime. I just eat and sleep."

"Well if you paid any attention to her, you'd figure it out pretty quick." He paused for a little dramatic effect, drawing out the ire from the techie. "She likes Shepard a _lot_."

Gordon couldn't hold back a laugh. "Ashley? Please. She seems like a woman who would rather shoot herself in the foot before breaking regulations, especially fraternization."

Still grinning, Tank was quick to remind the tech that she served with him aboard the first _Normandy_ for months.

Quick to retort, Gordon just waved his hand and said he'd with dozens of women within in the Tech Corps for longer that a few months, and he didn't want to bump uglies with any of them. Not that they weren't good-looking in the Tech Corps, but they the off-putting to pretty ratio was a little high.

The terminal beeped loudly, signaling that Gordon managed to wrestle back some control. He used this window to open up the security cameras. One was labeled 'Priority Black Situation: Detainee Escape Attempt in Progress.'

With a click of a button, the screen darkened and then brightened to reveal a shattered hanger bay. Bodies and catwalks alike littered the ground. And near the end…stood a human and two quarians, a third on the largest alien's back. Ignoring them, Gordon ordered the camera to zoom in on the human male.

His hand went up to his helmet's transmitter. "Chief? We got him. Right in the hanger bay."

* * *

"Stack up, left side breach." Ash ordered in a hushed voice as she hugged the wall by the door, right behind Tank. Doug and Jane filled in behind her. "Gordon, get this door open."

The techie knelt in front of the door, to find its electronic locks scrambled. He shook his head and gave a disappointed sigh. "I'll try, Ash. But it looks like the guards worked pretty hard to lock it down."

"Just do it, Private."

Straightening up, the man turned back to the door. "Yes, ma'am." He activated his omni-tool, casting orange-yellow light across the gray steel door. His device beeped with each tap of his finger, followed by a louder, four tone signal. Deactivating his tool, Gordon nodded. "We're in."

Tank gave a half-smile. "'Worked pretty hard to lock it down,' huh?"

"Working hard doesn't translate into doing a good job."

"Fall in." Ashley ordered, and then nodded to the giant in front of her. "After you."

Pumping his shotgun, Tank opened the door and took a long stride inside, weapon leading. He scanned towards the left side of the hanger as Ash fell in behind him, her rifle searching for anyone on the right.

"Contacts! Right side!" Jane shouted she lined up her rifle with a burly quarian, carrying a wounded one over his shoulders. Her finger was ready to yank on the trigger, but she relented.

Ashley froze and barely croaked at her soldiers to hold their fire as her eyes fell on the man once thought dead. The same man that had a funeral for the entire universe to see, a funeral she was a part of. A feeling of warmth and cold flowed into her body, freezing her muscles, but setting them on fire at the same time.

It was just like on Horizon. She didn't know how to react then, and she didn't know what to do now. Words wouldn't come, eyes couldn't unlock from his form, ears would only hear his voice.

He _stared_ back, tensing up as well.

The two able-bodied quarians lifted their guns, probably taken from guards. Their suits were dirty and damaged, nothing like how Ash remembered Tali's suit. Clean, untouched, in perfect condition.

Shepard turned to his comrades, if you could call them that. "Stand down. They're Alliance." His eyes turned back to Ash, and a nervous grin wrinkled his cheeks. "Hey Ash…good seeing you again."

He looked like a mess. The jumpsuit and cheap-looking armor he wore was covered in all colors of blood. Turian blue and krogan orange alike. His usually short-cut hair had become longer, scraggly. A clean-shaven face had become somewhat overgrown, and his eyes looked…

_Tired…dead tired._

"S-Shepard…" She began, but unaware of what to say next. _Damn it, Ash. Do __something._"You…you look like shit."

His smile faded slightly, "Missed you too."

From the back of the hanger, Tank was watching the situation with Doug. And they were enjoying it. Ashley always had something to say or an order to give. But now…she had nothing to say or do.

"_Mannnnn_." Doug groaned at the sight. "This is pretty awkward. Someone should take a picture."

They never noticed the door to their left opened. Both never noticed the krogan in eggshell white armor behind it, charging through.

"Rarrrrrrr!" It screamed. "I am krogan!"

Doug turned and lifted his weapon, only to have it smacked it away as the alien's shoulder slammed into his sternum. His world tumbled and spun end over end as Tank turned to fire upon the beast, only to feel the impact of rifle rounds against his kinetic barriers.

He stumbled and turned to the now open door. Freezing, he looked down to find a tiny quarian female standing before him, shotgun within her hands.

The bark of her weapon deafened him, frying his shields. Tank nearly tumbled backwards, out of breath, but the alien fired again.

_Impact._

His ceramic chest plating shattered, ribs broke, and blood spurted as his chest was torn open from the blast. Everything began to move slowly, at least to the gargantuan soldier, now with both feet in the air as he fell backwards.

Tank didn't feel any pain, nor the back of his helmeted head crashing against the hard floor. After what felt like centuries, he finally settled on the ground.

A voice called out as if it was being screamed from inside a long and wide tunnel. Echoic, almost spectral.

"_Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"_

It was Shepard screaming the words.

Opening his eyes, Tank observed Doug, apparently recovered from the krogan slamming into him. The Texan ran in slowly, as if from a cheap movie or video game scene, raising his pistol at the quarian who had shot his friend from near point-blank range.

"_Oh Keelah…" _A warbling voice gasped.

"_You fuckin' bitch!" _He roared, ready to blow the alien's head clean off, only for a turian in battle-scarred blue armor press the barrel of a sniper rifle against his head.

"_Drop it!" _He roared.

Two figures then blocked Tank's now-hazy vision, Gordon and Jane. One applied medi-gel, but it didn't help. He still couldn't move.

Then Doug moved Gordon, pleading with the man. _"Tank? Tank? Come on man, stay with me. Stay awake, you hear me? Stay awake!"_

Ashley stated that they needed to get back to the Titans, still picking up the stragglers from the ground assault, but Shepard insisted that the _Normandy's _shuttle was nearby.

She looked at Tank and then to Shepard, not knowing what to do.

Doug glared at the Chief. _"Well if we don't do something, he's gonna die!"_

Right after the Texan's protests, Tank's eyelids began to lower, weighed down by an invisible force. Tiredness swept through him quickly, and before he knew it darkness covered him like a shroud.

"_Tank! TANK!"_

Then…

_Silence._

* * *

Peace.


	13. A Few Minutes

A Few Minutes

* * *

"Shepard. Are you sure about this?"

The Commander turned to the pilot, who still stared up at him, in half awe, half disbelief.

"Open up comms with the Alliance, Joker. We have wounded that can't wait."

Joker nodded slowly, and sent out a hail to the closest vessel before turning back to the man. He held out his hand. "Good to have you back…_again_."

Shepard smiled and shook his hand gently, noticing the rather large bump along his pinky. Seems he broke his little finger recently.

"Nice cast, by the way."

Glancing past the former Alliance officer, the pilot found Ashley Williams standing behind him, helmet tucked under her arm. Her white armor was covered in blood and sand, caking the woman in grime earned from battle. Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she glanced around the _Normandy _anxiously.

_This isn't how I imagined a Cerberus ship…_ She looked up at Shepard and grimaced. _…__Former__ Cerberus ship._

Honestly, Ash didn't expect them to copy the old _Normandy_ so well. She read the reports from Anderson, but this was just…unsettling.

"Thanks." He smiled back, scratching the skin just above the edge of the cast. "And Ashley?"

Her eyes found Joker's.

"Good to have you aboard again." The pilot gave a quick nod, and his trademark grin.

A bulbous orb of brilliant azure appeared on a pedestal next to the pilot. _"Greetings, Chief Williams." _The synthesized female voice kindly said. _"My name is EDI, AI of the Normandy. Let me just say that Commander Shepard has spoken very highly of you."_

"And it talks, Shepard!" Ashley stated with feigned excitement. "What else haven't told me about this new boat of yours?"

The radio cut off the Spectre's reply. _"This is the SSV __**Las Vegas**__. Patching you through to the SSV __**Socrates**__."_

Admiral Hackett's gruff voice filled the cockpit's speakers. _"Commander Shepard? This is Hackett. How're you holding up, son?"_

Shepard gave a tired chuckle and ran a hand through his scraggly hair, "Turns out, prison sucks, sir. But we have wounded onboard, and they need immediate medical attention."

"_Understood. We already have the SSV __**Chicago**__ heading to your position; you should get a docking request in a moment. Her medical teams are standing by and ready to provide assistance." _He paused, as if wanting to add more, but settled for a quick goodbye. _"Good to have you back, Shepard. Hackett out."_

Staying silent for a brief moment, the Commander turned to Ashley, "Tell Chakwas to prep Zaael and your man for transport."

Ash did the first thing she thought of. Snapping off a crisp salute and nodding, "Aye aye, skipper."

* * *

**Medical Bay, HAZMAT Ward. Aboard SSV **_**Chicago**_**, in deep space dock with **_**Normandy **_**SR-2.**

"_Will Major Jim Cummings report to surgery?"_

Jim ignored the intercom as he looked over the quarian before him. His wounds were _bad_, not even counting the severe bacterial infection he had _before _knife wound. Straining in his hazmat suit, Jim trekked across the sterile room towards a waiting datapad, which had also been sterilized.

_Deep stab wound in abdominal region._

_Puncture of stomach lining likely, possible leakage of digestive acids to the rest of the body._

_Two broken ribs from rapid descent at a high elevation._

_Suit VI dispensed antibiotics to prevent further infection, but intervention is necessary for survival of quarian subject._

Frowning, Jim moved back to his patient. Despite the glass being cracked, the alien's mask was keeping him alive. Human breathing masks probably wouldn't be a solid fit for a quarian, so Jim was forced to keep it secured. Checking his vitals again, Jim noticed a slight raise in blood pressure and heart rate, which was a good thing.

The quarian, named Zaael, was nearly dead when he arrived. But Jim thankfully was forced to take a multi-species medical course, so he managed to pick out the types of drugs that would help the alien, without killing him.

Most of his enviro-suit had to be removed, the whole thing in serious disrepair. It was dirty, and kept up to snuff with makeshift parts and add-ons, but nothing to the exacting standards of other quarians. Of course, this guy was a prisoner, and it wasn't like you could go ask your warden for the best parts around.

His skin was pale, even paler than Jim's. No hair grew over his ghostly skin.

The intercom blared again, this time more forcefully, _"Major Jim Cummings is needed in surgery, right __now__. Patient is on emergency life-support and is a Case Four, repeat. Case Four."_

Sighing and checking the vitals for the quarian one final time, Jim handed the reigns to an assistant -also donning a hazmat suit- and headed for the sterilization chambers.

He entered the cold gray chamber with a short ceiling and stood on a slightly elevated pedestal, which depressed to floor-level when his weight fell upon it. A handful of bright yellow robotic arms appeared from the recesses in the ceilings and walls and mobbed the doctor, removing first his helmet, followed by the gloves and arm bracings.

The machines quickly stripped him from his protection till he was literally naked, just like he was when he put on the suit.

Briefly, he stepped off the pedestal and moved to the far corner, where a rubber cap was waiting for him. Stretching it wide, he wrapped the cap over his head and eyebrows, covering his fiery red hair with streaks of gray completely.

He was back on the pedestal.

"Make this quick, will ya?" He shouted to no one in particular as he shut his eyes tight.

His protest didn't matter though, as a hot spray slowly began to descend upon him. And it _burned_, not because the liquid was already hot to being with, but the chemicals within it. It set his skin on fire and opened up his sinuses, and evaporated away any hair that wasn't on his head. Every. Single. Hair.

The doors in front of him opened, and in came four men in hazmat suits that were similar to the doctor's. Each carried a scrubber and a backpack-like container on their backs, filled with more crap meant to kill germs.

They began to scrub down his naked form roughly, making sure to get every nook and cranny along his trim body as his skin turned red from the abuse.

One forcibly tore the cap from his head and then ran the hard bristles of the scrubber over his face and through his hair, before taking a step back.

"Keep your eyes shut…your mouth too."

Jim felt more hot liquid, this time sprayed directly into his face and hair.

This was more than what was usually required for a standard sterilization and decontamination procedure, but with so many wounded, and his recent contact with the quarian, it called for him to receive extra cleaning before he could treat humans again. Even though the likelihood was _very _small, the odds one in one hundred billion at most, they still treated him like he was a threat. But many still feared for alien germs to spread to humans. If it happened, the body might not be able to fight off the foreign contaminant quickly enough.

Once they were finished attacking him with the scrubbers, he was hosed down with cold water, then hot water, then cold again. After that, he was given a clean towel and dried himself off quickly.

He smelled like chlorine and ammonia.

…He always smelled like chlorine and ammonia.

A wall panel then retreated, showing several medical outfits wrapped in plastic. Jim looked over each one and shook his head.

"Sturgis?"

A voice, with a slight British drawl replied, _"Yes, Major Cummings?"_

"None of these outfits are the ones I ordered. I don't like this skin-tight, ball-squeezing crap. Where are the scrubs I ordered?" Jim growled. He didn't know what was wrong with people these days, with the Alliance. This was the year 2185, not 3000. Who made the decision to make this form-fitting crap standard-issue? He understood for soldiers, but not for doctors.

No man performed well when his nuts were in a vice.

"_Look at the bottom rack, Major." _The VI kindly replied, his accented voice gave no hint of offense or annoyance.

"Oh…" His eyes found the dark green scrubs and matching pair of pants and shoes waiting for him. "Thank you, Sturgis. Forgive my tone."

"_No offense taken, Major."_

Slipping into the scrubs, the doctor quickly turned for the door and down the occupied halls of the _Chicago's _med-bay. Jarheads and other doctors marched back and forth, place to place. Most of the wounded were transferred to the medical frigate _Somme_, but several were still aboard this cruiser.

A large, three fingered hand wrapped around Jim's arm. "Sir, is Zaael going to die?"

Turning, the Major found a _gigantic_ quarian standing before him, arms as thick as Jim's thighs. Sighing, Jim explained slowly, "Stab wound was cleaned up and closed, but that's not what I'm worried about." Sighing, the doctor rubbed a hand through his hair, "Infection is my concern. This isn't a quarian vessel, so my treatments can only do so much for him."

The alien's narrowed as he took in the information. He then nodded slowly and kindly said, "Thank you, doctor."

Turning away from the alien, Jim started back down the hall.

At the end of the corridor, Medical Lieutenant Issac DeMure waited nervously. Isaac hailed from a mostly French-occupied colony on the planet Gallant, where he spent most of his life before joining the Alliance. Due to poor physical testing, but with impressive IQ evaluations and previous knowledge of medical science, Isaac was relegated to the Medical Corps where he became a surgical assistant.

Now Isaac as a person was slightly aggravating. The kid was shy and quiet, only speaks when spoken to. Voicing your own opinion in the medical field was crucial, since you could pick up something about a wounded marine that no one else would've noticed, and Isaac didn't do that…

Well needless to say, the kid didn't always come up in crucial moments.

"How's the patient?" Jim asked bluntly as he walked past Isaac, signaling him to walk with him.

"Oh…uh." He began, as if startled by the man's words. His omni-tool lit up as he stared at the incoming data, "Shotgun wound to the chest. Several ribs broken, massive blood loss. Damage of the heart has taken place, damage to both the aorta and pulmonary artery present."

"Has he been stabilized?"

Isaac nodded quickly, licking his lips, "Yes sir, but barely. Irreparable damage to the heart has taken place."

"Has the organ been cloned yet?"

Nodding his head again, Isaac sputtered quickly, "Yes, sir. DNA has been taken from the subject and the heart was reproduced not fifteen minutes ago." The subordinate followed Jim to the surgical observation platform, where the patient was being prepped for emergency surgery below.

A large black man rested on the table. His bare chest, or what was left of it, was covered by a holographic barrier, to prevent onlookers on the observation platforms from staring at the severity of the damage. His eyes were shut tight; dried blood had dripped from the corner of his mouth, indicating blood had entered his lungs at some point.

His face was covered with an oxygen mask to assist breathing, while several doctors kept close watch on the faint vitals. Cords and wires ran up and down his arms, two thicker ones were lodged at the base of his neck, pumping in a clear liquid.

A small white case rested nearby on a gurney, an orange biohazard symbol was painted on all sides, showing that the organ was already nearby.

Jim's eyes looked up from the window, to find people occupying the other observation platform across from them. Three humans and a quarian female.

The alien was nervously fiddling with her three, slender fingers. Every time she approached the glass, the tall white marine in his black combat armor growled at her, and she retreated.

A woman with her hair in a tight bun stood next to this man, staying quiet even as he berated the quarian. She kept watching the man on the operating table.

And the third…

Commander Shepard. Even behind his ramshackle appearance, there was no mistaking who that man was.

He was the goddamned poster boy for the Alliance, well after the man's death.

Posters? He was on them. Movies? People played him. Some even pretended to _be _Shepard, having expensive surgeries to alter their facial structure and voice. Those who stormed into seedy places like Omega claiming to be the savior of the universe were quickly shot in the kneecaps and skinned alive.

Others on the Citadel were arrested or attacked by pissed-off Alliance soldiers, not wanting Shepard's reputation tarnished by obsessed fans.

Forcing his eyes down to the patient, Jim found one of the assistants staring back at him.

"_On your go, sir."_

_Right. Time for the show._

Lifting both arms straight out, he clenched both fists tightly, activating the glowing blue omni-tools around each hand. The transparent window in front of him darkened, covering the room in blackness…

Only to be lit up again by a bright screen, which displayed a view directly above the patient.

"Point-of-view display linked up." Isaac announced, his subtle accent playing in his voice. "Surgical arms in synch with your tools."

Bringing his blue-enveloped hands in front of his face, Jim watched as the motion was repeated on screen by a pair of robotic limbs.

They went still as Jim ceased his major movement, didn't move an inch.

These limbs eliminated the minute twitching created by human hands, allowing for work in delicate areas such as the brain and heart without the risk of an accident.

This did not, however, eliminate the need for humans at all. Robots weren't perfect either, and at least two human surgeons would assist at all times.

A strong voice beckoned in Jim's ear, the voice of one Captain Droy Tulann. _"We're all set on this end, Major. Disabling holo-barrier."_

_Good god…_

This kid was _messed up_. The doctor then gave a morbid chuckle and shrugged. "Well, at least we won't have to make a huge incision."

Isaac gaped at the man, "Sir! You broadcasted that. To everyone. Even in the other observation room."

Chuckling again, Jim casually lowered the leading arms towards the partially opened-up chest cavity of the marine, getting ready to remove the dying heart from his torso. Then he paused. The patient…he _moved_.

Jim went to the intercom, "Nurse Brennik?"

"_Yes, Major?"_

"This man was properly anesthetized before he came in here, correct?"

The woman nervously replied, her eyes remained locked on the patients vitals, which had began to spike ever so slightly. _"Uhh, yes we did. I properly accounted for his current condition and everything." _The man visibly jerked, and then a guttural moanemanated from his throat. _"…Oh my God."_

"Talk to me. What's going on down there?"

This wasn't good. People on the table were never supposed to wake up during an operation.

Ever.

Tulann came back on, _"Shit! He's fighting the anesthesia. Quickly, give him another dose!"_

Reacting, Jim brought up the man's life signs on his screen. Heart rate was falling into the red zone, too much strain. Warning sirens blared. This kid was in pain. He could feel the fact his chest was punched in by a shotgun.

And then he began to scream.

Nurse Brennik stepped back in shock, knocking over a table covered in medical equipment.

The patient's hands flew up to his arms, ripping cord after cord out of his body. Blood sprayed from the holes he created, covering the white sheets he laid upon. His eyes found the largest cords in his neck, and his hands followed.

Suddenly he froze, his screams of agony ceased as his hands fell to his sides.

A familiar sound accompanied him. It was one of panic, one of sadness, one that reminded a doctor that they have failed.

The flat line tone.

"_NOOOOO!"_

Jim activated the adjacent observation platform's security cameras, to reveal the white marine from before pounding on the glass wall as he watched his friend die. He then turned to the quarian raised his pistol, forcing her to step back in fear. _"You killed him, you fucking freak!"_

She yelled she was sorry, that she didn't mean to harm the soldier apparently named 'Tank.'

"_Fuck you." _He spat, his finger slipping inside the trigger guard. _"Fuck you and all you damn alien freaks."_

The woman and Shepard tackled the soldier, the latter ripping the pistol from his grip and driving an elbow into the man's forehead.

"Isaac!" Jim yelled as he deactivated the camera and focused back on his flat-lined patient. "Get security teams to that room now!" Then he brought his radio to life, "Tullan?"

"_Yes, sir?"_

He lifted his arms, bringing the robotic arms closer to man's chest, selecting the scalpel and cutting open the remaining flesh.

"Is the cloned organ damaged?"

A moment's hesitation. _"No, Major. The heart's untouched."_

"Good, get ready." He ordered, feeling sweat starting to accumulate along his brow.

"We have only a few minutes to save this man's life."

* * *

Peace.


	14. Losses

Losses

* * *

Echoic voices filled his ears, distant and hard to understand.

"_All right… ease him out of it. We don't know how bad the damage could be."_

Slowly, Tank's eyes opened to reveal a sea of white light. Dark figures appeared over him, their hands holding holo-pads. The marine could hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor, along with the humming of medical equipment. Dull, throbbing pain flowed in and out of his chest.

Tank briefly wondered if he was dead, despite the pain he felt. One flex of his muscles changed his opinion. Fire shot up his back, forcing him to sit up and hiss in response.

The figures backed away, and slowly, the marine's eyes adjusted to the room.

He was surrounded by a team of doctors in white suits, some covered in splotches of crimson, others not. Two nurses and another man, in dark green scrubs. His forehead was dripping with sweat, his hands shook, and his dark eyes were focused on Tank.

"Sturgis." The man spoke. "Scan him."

Tank glanced towards his right, to find a VI hologram standing before him. The image wore a clean-cut 'suit' with digital lines slashing through it that changed colors from deep purples, blues, and greens to fiery reds and oranges. It was a more sophisticated design than most VIs within the Alliance, displaying that this program had some sort of designed individuality to it.

It's 'skin' mimicked the changing of colors of its suit, but the program's eyes remained a deep blue.

An accented voice passed through its lips, _"So far, I am detecting no brain damage from initial scanning. Skin shows no degeneration from the dermal treatments, but that doesn't account for remarkably quick healing." _Sturgis let that sink in for a moment before continuing, _"And the bone were repaired and fused with little trouble." _It spoke as if going through a checklist. _"You will have to test him yourself to tell whether if my indications about the brain damage are true."_

A young doctor approached Tank and stood next to the bed he lay on. His eyes darted left to right as he read info that sat on the screen of his holo-pad. "All righty… let's start with your name, rank, and serial number."

His throat was dry and felt like it was caked with the sand he had so recently fought in, but he managed to force a raspy voice out of him, "Where am I?"

"Aboard the SSV _Chicago_. Med-bay." The man quickly replied. "Now…name, rank, and serial number."

Tank's eyes found a thin tube running from a bag hanging from a medical stand, filled with plasma, running into his bicep. Tasting stale air, the soldier finally noticed the oxygen mask strapped over his mouth and nose. Lances of pain rippled across his chest, but white bandages that wrapped around him hid any injury from immediate view.

He grimaced. "How long have I been out?"

"Two hours after surgery. Meant to stay knocked out for much longer, but you fought off the anesthesia quicker than expected. Plus with the possibility of brain damage, we wanted to see if you were all there." The man gave an annoyed huff, "Name, rank, and number, _please_."

Brain damage? Tank glared at the doctor, "What happened?"

The man in green scrubs came forth, pushing the other man back gently. He sighed and gave a nervous grin, "Well, you were clinically dead on the operating table for about four minutes. Luckily we replaced your ticker just in time, and then gave you a quick shock to get it going. No oxygen reached your brain within that period." Clearing his throat, the man placed a hand on Tank's thick shoulder. "Now please, we need to figure out if everything up here…" He tapped his head with his forefinger, "…is still working."

His eyebrows shot up. "New ticker?"

A smile from the man in scrubs, "Yeah… when you were shot, your heart took a bad hit. Structural damage to the aorta and pulmonary." He paused, knowing the kid in front of him wasn't a medical nut, so he ceased with the details. "It was failing when you arrived, and when you woke up in the middle of surgery and yanked the tubes out, it finally petered out."

Harsh yet fuzzy memories assaulted Tank. He briefly felt the agony that ran through his chest when he woke up the first time.

"Can we just get the goddamned name already?" The other doctor hissed.

Marine boot camp came back to him, as if he was being prodded by a drill instructor again. "Martin Davis, Private First Class. Number 2621859."

The man behind the surgeon spoke up again, not sounding pleased at all with the response, "Hm. Everything's in order there." He waltzed to the foot of his bed. "What are the names of your birth parents?"

"Where's my team?"

Rolling his eyes, the doctor sighed with annoyance. "One of them is outside, waiting for you. Names, please."

"I don't know." Tank spat back, angry with the man's constant droning. "I was adopted."

Nodding, the doctor was finally satisfied. "Hold out your hands like this and touch your thumbs to each of your fingers."

Tank didn't feel like sitting here. He felt like getting up, back into some armor and getting back to his squad. Begrudgingly, he repeated the man's action with no difficulty. Then he was instructed to follow a flashlight with just his eyes, then some other simple memory tests, followed by some more motor control trials.

Each person that was there either took notes or watched from the corner of the room. Even Sturgis' kept its ghostly blue eyes trained on the marine.

After what felt like hours of needless tests and quizzes, the surgeon who called himself Jim nodded with satisfaction. "Okay, you seem to be all there, but I want you in observation overnight. I'll order for CAT and MRI scans in the morning."

"I'd rather get back to my people, sir."

Jim chuckled, "Yeah, and I'd like the Alliance to discontinue the use of skin-tight suits, but that won't happen while I'm still living." He saw the pained expression in the large soldier's eyes. Putting a hand on his shoulder again, the doctor nodded slowly, "I understand what you're going through, and I know it's frustrating."

Tank shrugged and nodded. Begging and complaining wasn't going to get him anywhere. Might as well just suck it up.

* * *

He was transferred to a large observation wing, where several other marines were being kept in several rooms within. Two soldiers shared each room, separated by a thin wall of glass darkened just enough to hide whoever was behind it. What few wounded that weren't transferred to the _Somme_ were in bad shape.

Some riddled with bullet holes, others missing limbs. It was eerie being among wounded, at least to Tank. He felt he could go right back into combat right now if he had to.

He was carted into a room and promptly left alone by the doctor and nurse, saying they'd be back in every other ten minutes to check on his status.

Then a gruff voice sounded out behind the glass wall next to Tank, hiding the neighboring patient he had to room with.

"My god, you're that Tank kid, right?"

_No way…_ Tank thought. _No damn way._

"Chief Marta?"

A chuckle, followed by the rustle of large weight leaving a mattress, then heavy footsteps burdened by a limp. Appearing around the corner, the former Garrison Chief limped into view. He wore a deep blue Alliance Marines t-shirt while his right leg was wrapped tightly with bandages.

"How'd you end up here, kid?" The Chief grunted as he limped over and shook the Private's hand, "It's hard imaging you of all in your little squad hurt."

Marta pulled a cigarette out and placed it in between his lips, and then a lighter came. A quick flash of flame, and the cancer stick was alight.

Puffing smoke out his nostrils, the Chief sat at the foot of Tank's bed and sighed, "Glad your okay, though. I've seen enough death to last me three lifetimes over and then some."

"How'd you end up here?" Tank questioned, brushing his hand through the air to smack away the cloud of gray smoke fogging around his bed.

Marta took another drag from his cigarette before finally speaking, "After Eden Prime, my garrison…" He paused, teeth gritted. "What was _left_ of my garrison was taken off-world and was assigned as the ground team for the frigate _Marathon_. Once the plan to raid the prison came through, I prepped my men for the drop onto that desert planet. Then good old Rear Admiral Ozawa spearheaded for the turian fleet."

He stood up and angrily yanked the smoldering cigarette from his mouth and started to pace. "Then we got hit. _Hard_. Their main gun ripped through the upper decks caused a chain reaction throughout. We were in the drop bay, and a metal beam broke off and fell."

Tapping his leg, the Chief frowned as he looked at Tank. He then told him that they sat dead in the water for a few hours until rescue arrived, and even then they focused on the bridge crew the most.

"You know how many people were trapped below decks?"

Tank simply shook his head.

Marta was happy to answer the question as more smoke billowed from his mouth, "Over a hundred an' fifty below decks. But noooooo, Command _insisted_ the officers up top had priority." Snuffing the cancer stick, Marta flicked it across the room and then let his hands shoot up to his eyes, angrily rubbing them. "I lost thirty-three _more _kids."

"I'm sorry, sir…" Tank nodded as his eyes fell to the floor. The Chief was blaming himself for everything. All those dead marines were on him, in his mind.

"And you can bet they went for Admiral Ozawa first, 'cuz she was the _only _person who survived the explosions on the bridge." Marta turned and eyed the glass wall in front of him, contemplating whether or not to drive his fist through it. Maybe it'd cut his wrist open and end this shit.

Instead he slumped into a nearby chair and mumbled to himself, not knowing Tank was still listening. "Her life… in exchange for thirty-three…"

And they both sat there… in silence. There was no response for what the Chief had just laid down in front of Tank.

A knock at the door, and in came Ashley, with a worried look on her face that quickly passed once she saw the wounded Private resting on his bed. Her eyes found Marta and she gave a quick nod, "I see Marta's already introduced himself."

"Actually Chief," Marta began, sullen expression gone, "I was actually roomed up with him." He glanced at Tank with a grin, one that looked very forced, "Looks like me and him are gonna be the best of friends."

"Well, I need a minute. If you don't mind, that is." Ash said carefully, knowing something was off with the man.

Nodding, the Garrison Chief stood and left, not saying a word.

As soon as the door shut behind the man, she pulled up a chair right next to Tank and asked immediately how he was feeling.

Tank briefly laughed to himself. "I've been shot, ma'am. How do you think I feel?"

Has he ever called her anything other than 'ma'am' since they first met? Ash could have sworn that the giant marine had never called her by her name.

Sighing, Ashley placed a gentle hand on his thick shoulder, "Tank, my name isn't Ma'am. Call me anything but that, okay? Call me Ashley or Ash, hell I'd settle for George at this point."

Smiling again, Tank finally nodded, "All right. Guess I never really noticed it 'till now. I was raised like that, ma-"

Ash shot him a look that could melt steel, shutting the Private up quickly. The grin never left his lips though.

"So, _Ashley_," He put a lot of stress on her name, as if the word was foreign to his tongue, "Where's everybody else?"

"Most of the squad is resting up or eating. They wanted to come down here, but when I heard that you were stable, I made sure they were probably sorted out first." A slight hesitation, "I don't know where Randy is." She looked like she wanted to add something more but the woman simply bit her lower lip and nodded, signaling she was finished.

Tank would make sure to ask later. "To tell you the truth, I seriously thought you'd be with Shepard right now. Tearing him a new one or something."

The woman gave a tiny smirk, "He had to return to the _Normandy_, debrief his crew. Apparently they lost one of their own. I'd just be a distraction."

People were best left alone when mourning. Tank had seen good friends turn into monsters in the midst of combat while a friend lay dead at their feet. A young Corporal Jones came to mind when he was still with the 412.

Jones had what many would call an inappropriate relation with a female officer who was recently rotated into their unit.

Both Doug and Tank had known for weeks, but Jones promised it was nothing serious. Then they were sent to patrol a mining facility that had gone dark for about a week and a half. Initially all they found were bodies and a lot of the precious minerals stolen, until practically a whole a platoon of mercenaries attacked them. Jones, Doug, and Tank were separated from the rest of the 412, and were forced to fight through the bowels of the complex.

Upon their return to the main atrium, Jones found his woman dead. She was murdered execution style, a single bullet to the back of the head. The fist thing Jones did was fall to his knees and cradled the body, unable to stop the tears that flowed from his eyes.

Doug came over to pull the Corporal away, only to receive an ear-splitting roar and punch to his nose. Then Jones charged back down where they came from, searching for any more aliens to kill.

He found some.

After becoming severely wounded, the Corporal pulled a grenade from his belt and primed it before charging at the batarian emplacement. Tank couldn't stop him in time.

Wondering, Tank wanted to know how Shepard, a man he'd never met, would handle such a tragedy. The way Ashley described him, was that the man would probably blame himself for everything, thinking over every scenario in which he _could _have stopped the losses from unfolding.

The Operations Chief's mind came upon the death of Kaidan Alenko, Shepard still couldn't forgive himself for leaving his friend behind..

"When he worked with Cerberus, did you ever have contact with him?"

Ashley was a little surprised by Tank's question, "I…umm…We met on the colony of Horizon…where the Collectors had attacked. When I first saw him I couldn't believe it, like him being before me, _alive_, was an answer to my prayers. But then he confirmed all the rumors that he was working with Cerberus. Then it hit me...I didn't know if he was _real_ or not, you know? What if he was some sort of copy, a sick offspring created by Cerberus? They've done horrible things to so many people…"

Ghastly images of everything Cerberus had done played in her head. The thorian creepers tearing apart scientists on some backwater world in the Traverse, rachni trotting over the dead body of Admiral Kahoku, and Corporal Toombs.

_Oh God, poor Toombs._

Shepard was thought to be the only survivor from the thresher maw attack on Akuze, also thanks to Cerberus, but Toombs survived as well.

Broken and bloodied, he was dragged away and experimented on by Cerberus scientists. Thresher acid in his veins, Toombs eventually escaped and hunted down each and every scientist, his list ending with a Doctor Wayne on the planet Ontarom.

And then the stories and rumors started. Ashley couldn't get away from them. When she ran special missions for Anderson, she always heard of Shepard not being dead for two years straight and at the time she ignored them.

Then intel came in, straight from Alliance Command. Commander Shepard was somehow alive, and seen working _with _Cerberus agents.

They forced her to sit through several briefings about it, them drilling the point home again and again and again.

Shepard was not to be trusted, nor contacted for any reason. If she did, she would've been tried for treason and most likely either jailed for the rest of her life or executed.

At first, it was an obvious smearing by the Alliance, meant to trash Cerberus more than Shepard, but more and more he was sighted working with them. And Ashley lost hope.

How could the man that had one of his own experimented by them, and still be willing to work with them?

Then came Horizon. All those briefings and reports, all those vids of him fighting alongside the black and gold silhouettes of the enemy. It all rushed forth quickly, unable to control herself.

How could he betray them? His former team? The Alliance?

Shepard tried to explain, but at the time Ashley didn't want to hear it and she kept berating him. Afterwards, she tried to send him a message apologizing, but she couldn't even type out the proper words needed. All she told him was to be careful. She felt like a bitch, a grade-A asshole. Putting him through that, and then giving him a half-ass apology.

She got drunk later that week. Very drunk. Then she started crying, crying even harder then she did right after Shepard's funeral.

And she couldn't stop. Ash fell asleep crying, and woke up crying.

_God, if Dad saw me then…_

The intercom came to life, the icy calm voice of the VI Sturgis came out,_ "Will Operations Chief Ashley Williams report to First Lieutenant Randy Crowe's quarters immediately? Thank you."_

Tank motioned for her to leave, as the doctors were returning for a checkup anyways.

* * *

**SSV **_**Chicago**_**, Lieutenant Crowe's Quarters.**

_To the parents of Private Hilary Moers…_

No. No. No.

_Delete. Delete. Delete._

_To Franklin and Kali Moers…_

Save. Randy wiped sweat away from his eyes as he tapped away on the holo-keyboard in front of him.

_Your daughter gave her life valiantly on the field of battle to secure victory for the-_

No.

_Your daughter had her leg blown off at the knee and was left in the desert sand by her comrades, who only stopped by her to strip her of weapons and ammo before moving on. All the while her commanding officer was behind some dune moping._

NO.

Randy sighed and turned away from the monitor as soon as he deleted the last sentence. He had failed his men, failed everyone. The least he could do was personally send letters to the next of kin of those who were lost.

All one hundred and eight of them. Out of two hundred.

Over a fifty percent casualty rating and it was all his fault. The bitter voice of his father wracked his brain.

_You fuckin' wimp! You let all those men die. For what? Because it got too hard for you?_

Randy balled his fists. _Leave me alone, Dad. Please. _

_You coward. All those lives wasted._

_Leave. Me. Alone._

_Pussy. At least your brother had the balls to die on the battlefield._

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He drove his fist through the screen, shattering it into tiny fragments.

Chest rising and falling with ragged breaths of rage, Randy turned to find Ashley waiting by the door. Her fists were clenched, unsure of what he was going to do next.

"What do you want, Chief?"

Ashley raised a brow, "You called for me, sir."

Settling down, Randy rubbed a hand through his blonde hair; his green eyes fell to the floor. "Right, yeah."

He slumped back into the chair and lifted a data drive from his table. The Lieutenant wanted her to take it down to bridge. It was a full report on what happened down on the planet. Every detail was on there. Every bullet that was fired, and every man and woman and turian that had died.

"I'd deliver it myself, but I owe it to those lost to finish the letters to their families…" He glanced towards his shattered screen as Ashley took the drive from him, and a weak laugh rumbled in his throat, "…on a new computer, I guess."

The woman turned to leave, only for the officer to grab her wrist.

"Wait." He ordered.

Ash's dark orbs fell on the Randy again. "Yes, sir?"

"I saw what you did down there, for that kid who was dieing."

The bloody body of the young Private in the desert, a bullet lodged in his chest. He begged for Last Rites, and all he got from Ashley was a brief prayer that they couldn't even finish before he bled out.

The Lieutenant continued, venom in his tone, "I don't want to see that religious shit _again_. Keep it to yourself. We clear?"

_What?_

Ashley took a step back, her brow furrowed, "Excuse me?" Her fists clenched again. "You got a problem with the fact that I believe in God?"

"I don't want you spreading it around." Randy replied, as he turned his chair to face his broken screen, eyes locked on the shards littering the desk.

"I don't think I was 'spreading it around,' sir." He didn't have any right to say what he did.

Randy then began to laugh and shake his head.

This was the first time Ashley noticed it. She smelled alcohol. Cheap liquor, most likely.

"I don't get you people, Williams." The Lieutenant as his eyes went to the ceiling, followed by his hands shooting up. "You people believe in a kind and merciful deity who loves all." His laughter continued, picking up in intensity. "If he was _sooooo_ damn kind, why the _hell_ would he put a man like me in charge of two hundred souls, only to let half of them die?"

"I don't know, sir." Ashley bitterly replied. "He has a plan for everyone. You and me."

A sniff, "Ah yes, a _plan_. A _plan _to start wars. A _plan _to murder hundreds. A _plan _to leave them all at my feet. Lovely." He lowered his hands to the desk, not caring about the shards dug into his skin, "Convert me now, then. Halle-fucking-lujah."

"Sir." Ashley grunted, barely able to contain her newfound anger as she walked over and placed the data drive in front of him, "I highly suggest you get yourself cleaned up."

The Lieutenant just gave a quizzical look at the woman.

She continued, "Because if you're still like this when I come back, I _will_ have your drunk ass handled by Admiral Hackett himself."

Randy waited until he heard her footsteps become more distant, and then the mechanical swish of his door closing behind her. The man sighed as the quiet returned to him. Immediately, he opened up the bottom drawer to his desk and found a tiny bottle of whiskey, half-empty. A little gift he received from Chief Don Marta.

"Gotta clean up, right?" He mumbled to himself as he pressed the bottle to his lips.

The harsh liquid burnt his throat as he downed what was left.

* * *

Peace.


	15. Rise and Shine

Rise and Shine

* * *

"Rise and shine, Miss Jacqueline…"

_What the hell? Where the hell are we?_

"Rise and shine." The raspy voice slowly beckoned again, putting uneven stress on each word, dragging out the 'S' each time.

Warmth filled the convict's body, and sound filled her ears. Humming and beeping of machines, the slightest murmurs of other people, and the arming of weapons. The raspy voice merely chuckled as Jack's eyes slowly opened to reveal a hazy blur of man-sized figures in front of her. At least a dozen, maybe more.

_Come on Jackie, snap out of it. I think we're in some deep shit._

The woman laid on an ice-cold, raised medical platform, wrists and ankles bound to it by unseen shackles. A familiar hiss began to annoy her; military-grade biotic inhibitors. Designed to diminish a biotic's abilities to that of nothing. She'd seen these things in every prison she'd been locked up in, and she always made sure they were the first things to go when she broke out.

A man appeared in front of her as her vision cleared. His skin was ghostly white followed by equally spectral blue eyes. Black hair was cut short and kempt, mimicking the impeccable suit he wore. It looked expensive, something only the richest celebrities or most notorious criminals could afford. But there was something simple about the garment as well, something she couldn't quite put a finger on.

If she could move her fingers.

The man smiled, showing perfect white teeth. His raspy voice unevenly clarified, "Not to imply you were sleeping…Miss Jacqueline. Being _deceased_…" Still, the man dragged out the 'S' in his speech, almost becoming like a hiss, "…tends to bring out that effect. Almost…" A dry, brief chuckle. "…_peaceful_."

There was something familiar about this man.

Ignoring the feeling, Jack bared her teeth and growled, "The fuck are you talkin' about? Who the hell are you?" Her eyes drifted past the spectral man to find commandos waiting behind him in the dark room, rifles aimed at her. _Cerberus _commandos. Both her eyes went wide with panic, "Where the hell am I!"

The man's hand raised and went to his neck, adjusting the collar to his suit; all the while he gave a simple smirk. "Minuteman Station…my dear Jacqueline. My employers were very…" A pause, the man searching for the right word. "_Eager_ to see whether or not recovering you from the Last Dawn facility was truly worth the immense effort they put forth."

A wave of his hand, and the commandos behind him lowered their guns. He adjusted his collar again, not out of nervousness, just merely doing it for the sake of doing it.

"I _assured _my employers, however, that you were more than worth the cost of your…revival."

"Who the hell are your 'employers,' huh!" Jack screamed as she violently yanked her arms against her bindings, only to not budge even an inch. "Those Cerberus fucks?"

Another chuckle, and then a rasp reply, "_Precisely_." He glanced back to the dozen or so commandos. "Captain, your men can leave. You may stay if you wish."

The Captain of their group approached, "But sir, if _he's _coming and _she's _in here…" The red eye slits of his helmet turned to the bound convict. "I cannot risk a breach; I'll need all my men here."

The man before the commando growled, "I assure you, Captain. This woman's power, even in the hyper-enhanced state that it is, isn't even a _twentieth _of what I usually handle out in the field. Now…have them _leave._"

Taking another baneful glance at the recently revived convict, the Captain about-faced and ordered his men from the room. And then Jack was alone with the man and soldier.

Adjusting his collar yet again, the man's confident grin never left his face. "This may or may not be the most convenient place for questions…Miss Jacqueline. But I believe I owe you that much, so if you have any queries, I would be alacritous to provide answers." Then he went silent, hands behind his back as he stood completely still, his blue eyes almost glowed in the nearly black room.

"What happened to me?" The woman questioned as she tried to muster up some sort of biotic force to break the shackles around her wrists. No power came.

_Come on, Jackie. You know that won't work. _The voice in the back of her mind told her.

Nodding his head slowly, the man approached and lifted a hand and waved it. An orange screen appeared in front of Jack. An x-ray of someone's skull appeared, several implants within the brain were based along the cerebral cortex all the way down to the brain stem.

"This is your x-ray, my dear…_before_ your run in with a bullet. Needless to say the image in front of you was damaged…_well _beyond repair. To most medical facilities, you would be considered unsalvageable…but not to Cerberus."

"Yeah," Jack huffed, ignoring the humming of the inhibitors as she tried to muster any power. "They have a habit of doing sick shit with the dead. What did they do to me?"

A swish of large doors opening, then light footsteps. The weathered voice of the one and only Illusive Man came in reply, "We brought you back to the land of the living, Subject Zero. I didn't entirely expect you to be very thankful, but I assure you the alternative was much worse."

The Illusive Man came into view, the other male stepped aside. A glass filled with some sort of liquor was elegantly held in his left hand, the other behind his back. His cold, artificial blue eyes fell upon the woman, quietly scanning her.

Jack gave a fake grin, "Shepard always told me you never met people in person. You were always 'too important to take such a risk.'"

After moments of silence, with his cold orbs firmly locked on the restrained form of his prisoner, the convict growled in response, "What the fuck are you staring at? What do you want with me?"

"We originally entered the prison to find Commander Shepard, not _you_." The head of Cerberus matter-of-factly explained. Flicking away the medical screen of Jack's x-ray, he cleared his throat and continued, "But we didn't anticipate him to escape so quickly. It took us days to find the location of Captain Farrax's little facility and once we arrived, my men found you."

"Your men shot me!"

_Bastards __killed__ us._

"Well, as I said…" The Illusive Man paused and sipped from his glass, "Shepard was our priority ever since our deal with the turians went south; I gave the original orders to terminate anyone within except the Commander. My men clarified that you were among the casualties and since Shepard had already escaped, the prime subject from the Teltin Facility would reimburse some of my losses."

_Deal with the turians? _It questioned, nagging at Jack.

Jack's snarl was replaced with a grin, "Cerberus is a bunch of xenos and racists. I _know_ you'd never work with any of the Council races-"

"Only if the situation called for it, Miss Jacqueline." The Illusive Man interrupted, "And it did. I offered the Black Talons a simple job, work in tandem with one of our spy vessels and capture Commander Shepard." The man handed his half-empty drinking glass to the Cerberus Captain, shadowing the head of the human fringe group.

"Sadly though…" An angry hiss came from the Illusive Man, who took a long sip of his drink, "after a few months of working together successfully, right up to the point of Shepard's capture, Farrax had an unexpected… change of heart."

"Hmph." Jack grunted. "He took Shepard to the prison instead of giving him up. Sucks to be you."

"And now we're back to square one, Miss. Fighting to keep humanity alive, and you'll be helping us."

Silence. Jack gave a laugh, "Please, are you serious? You fucks are the ones who _kidnapped _me as a child, sent me to some foreign shithole, and experimented on me. Experiments that involved torture and drugs." Leaning forward as best she could, Jack replaced her tone with venom. "So if you think that I'll help you, you're dead wrong."

"_That_…" The ghostly man interjected as he adjusted the collar of his suit again, "…is where _you're_ dead wrong, my dear. I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter." The orange panel appeared again, showing Jack's cybernetically recreated brain.

Brain matter was pieced back together and mended with several implants, more so than she had received on Pragia.

_What did they do to us?_

"You see, these implants are holding your mind together…" A slight chuckle, "Both figuratively and physically."

A nod from the ghostly man as he nodded to the other inhabitants in the room. Both the Illusive Man and his Captain left, the door shutting tight behind them. Turning, the man's eerie blue orbs fell upon the convict once more.

"We can _end _you in an instant Miss Jacqueline." He lifted his omni-tool, blue like his eyes, and tapped once on its screen.

Jack froze against her will, every muscle in her body tightened. She felt her heart shudder and _stop_. She couldn't scream as air left her lungs immediately.

Another tap of his screen, and electricity filled Jack's body. She _felt _her heart being forcibly restarted.

"You see my dear…that was the aptly named…_kill _switch. So you can work with my employers or die in a most painful way." He turned for the door; his footsteps rang out as he approached the metal portal. Turning back one final time, the specter adjusted his collar.

"Before I leave you, let me just advise…It's time to make a decision, Miss Jacqueline."

The door opened and shut, and he was gone. Leaving Jack alone with a harrowing choice. Betray everything and everyone to work with the very organization that she grew up to despise beyond words, or face death.

It was just a mere press of a button away.

_Well…_ It mused. _Looks like we're shit out of luck here._

"Yeah…"

* * *

Peace.


	16. Deepest Apologies

Deepest Apologies

* * *

**Aboard SSV **_**Socrates**_**. Private FTL Communication Center.**

Hackett rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit he earned from years of frustration. Frustration mostly gained from political bullshit… the same shit the turian Councilor was trying to feed him right now.

The hologram that stood in front of the Admiral was one of arrogance and of little compassion towards other races.

"_I guarantee that the Hierarchy had no idea of the Black Talons' whereabouts during the course of these past few months." _

"You expect me to believe that you had no clue where one of your most dangerous and notorious special forces units went?" Hackett shook his head as he tucked his hands behind his back, "I find that very hard to believe, Councilor. I'd expect that from a team of pencil-pushers, not you."

The Councilor's mandibles twitched slightly, _"The Talons operate with utter secrecy. That's the whole point. Only a few within the Hierarchy know where the Talons at any one time, but I was informed months ago that we lost them completely."_

"And this wasn't something that you wanted to bring to the rest of the Council's attention, let alone ours?"

Eyes narrowing, the turian growled in response, hiding none of that animosity that has been between their species for years, _"Would you tell the whole Council if an entire unit of N7 Commandos went off the grid? Or the salarians and their STG units? Asari Commandos?" _Hackett stayed silent, and the turian nodded, giving a satisfied huff. _"That's what I thought."_

Clenching a fist, Hackett hissed back, "Don't try to worm your way out of this, Councilor. I lost hundreds of damn good people today. A full report _will _be going to Anderson and the rest of the Council, especially the one on Captain Farrax."

"_Speaking of Farrax, what of his men? The ones your people are holding captive."_

Hackett assured that all of the Talons that were taken prisoner would be handed over to a nearby section of the turian fleet. Others were still being rounded up, while more got away with Farrax.

The turian Councilor was hardly impressed, but he haughtily dismissed, _"Keep me updated, human. I want-"_

"Call me Admiral, _turian_." Hackett interrupted bluntly as he thumbed the disconnect button. The alien's mouth opened wide to retort, but the hologram fizzled a moment later. Glancing up towards the ceiling, the Admiral called out, "Navigator Collins? Log our loss of contact with our good friend the Councilor."

You could almost hear the smug grin on the Navigator's face. _"Yes, sir. Cause of the loss?"_

Hackett smiled, "Selective interference, Collins. Selective interference."

"_Aye aye, sir."_

* * *

**SSV Chicago, Medical Bay.**

"So how are you feeling?"

"Like crap."

The nurse rolled her eyes, and then her tone became laced with a feigned seriousness, "Okay, if you don't wish to use more than two-word responses, I can put you through a series of _physical _tests to see how you are feeling. Most are very, very uncomfortable." A smile creeped up on her. "One of those would be a rectal examine. A very _thorough _one."

Tank's eyes went wide and he straightened up in bed, "I still feel a lot of pain in my chest," he breathed quickly, "and my skin still feels like its on fire when I'm not on any meds."

Satisfied, the nurse tapped away on her now-living omni-tool and then walked for the Marta's side of the room. Her voice, now muffled from the glass wall, became shrill as she ordered the Garrison Chief to drop the cigarette he was currently inhaling. A few moments later, she found more tucked under his mattress.

She spent the next ten minutes berating him on what he was and wasn't allowed to bring back to his room, let alone the med bay.

Too enthralled with the events in front of him, Tank didn't notice another woman walk in and stand by his bedside.

A stern clearing of her throat dragged Tank's eyes to the petite form of Guns, her hair tied back in the standard regulation bun. The woman did nothing to hide the scars that traced down each side of her neck, almost like claw-marks. She wore them unwaveringly, not caring about the occasional glance she got.

"How are you feeling, Tank?" She asked softly, a tiny smile on her lips.

"You want the abridged version, ma'am?"

Guns' smile grew as she nodded.

"Well," Tank sighed, "I still feel like crap, but I guess that comes with being shot. Wish they would bring me a glass of water every now and again…" He glanced towards the nurse through the darkened glass wall, still yelling at Marta. His eyes went back to the Gunnery Chief, "I get this feeling when the docs are around, like…" Tank looked left and right slowly, as if searching for the right words, "…like I _should_ be dead."

Guns had to admit, from what she heard, the man before her shouldn't. He literally died on the operating table, clinically dead for several minutes.

The woman grimaced, "I have to say, Tank, you looked bad. Everyone was beating themselves up for letting their guard down like that, and Doug is taking it the hardest."

She shut her mouth instantly. Guns got orders from Ashley to not even mention Doug and his incident. Pulling a gun on a quarian that was not only family of a highly-ranked Admiral, but also a part of Shepard's crew.

Tank smiled this time, "So, did you ever figure out whatever happened to my rifle? The one that jammed on me."

Guns sighed inwardly with relief. She might get off easy today. Guiding her hand to her pants pocket, she pulled out something that looked like two quarter-sized disks smashed together and tossed it into the marine's lap. His thick fingers trapped it immediately.

"What the hell is this?" He chuckled as he examined it.

"That's what I found lodged in the barrel of your gun. You see, it wasn't just sand that clogged up your weapon." Guns explained as she pushed away a loose strand of hair that somehow escaped her bun behind her ear.

"Yeah." He said as he flipped it into the air with his thumb like a coin. "But what _is_ it?"

"A bullet." She stated simply. "An enemy bullet."

Tank didn't believe it at first. _Damn_.

"What about my rifle?" He finally asked after he handed the flattened projectile back to Guns.

She shook her head, "Sorry, but the insides were messed up pretty bad. It would take a few weeks to repair it, and I don't have the time or credits. The quartermaster would barely even look at the thing." Guns chuckled briefly, that man practically threw the gun back into her arms after he took one glance at it. "I requisitioned a new gun for you though, should be here within the week."

The large marine nodded slowly, taking a quick glance at the bandages that wrapped around his chest. "You mentioned Doug earlier, ma'am."

Guns took a cautious step back. _Damn…_

"Where is that bastard? Even Gordon and Jane came down to see me." Tank mused with his familiar smile returning.

The Chief sighed. How the hell was she going to explain this?

* * *

**Brig, SSV _Chicago_****.**

He couldn't believe it. They had actually sent him to the brig.

Shepard and Ashley physically dragged Doug's Texan ass all they down to the _Chicago's _brig and locked him in. And then he was given the order to 'cool off.'

And worst of all, he was the only soldier in there, save for the two marines on guard duty. Those two just watched Doug with smug little grins, playfully wondering what he possibly had to do to get dragged down here by _the _Commander Shepard.

He ignored them, instead spending most of his time sleeping on the thin cot provided in his cell, which was surrounded by metal walls and an energy barrier at the entrance. Doug had barely gotten any rest since they were deployed. All the fighting in that desert hellhole, then watching Tank's surgery, and seeing him _die _right in front of him.

All the anger overflowed at that point, and he pulled his handgun on the quarian girl. In his mind, he _was _going to shoot her. _Kill _her, make her pay for killing his friend. Luckily, he was stopped by Ash and Shepard tackling him.

Truthfully, he understood the quarian, honest to God he really did. It was a kill or be killed situation down in the prison, and if you wanted to live, than you had to be the one who fired first.

And it wasn't until a few hours ago that Jane finally came down to tell him Tank was still alive, even after everything that's happened to that giant bastard. Doug couldn't find the words to properly describe what he just did. 'Act like an asshole' maybe? 'Psychotic dickhead' probably fit better.

"Oy, numbnuts!"

The marine groaned, before finally sitting up as he rubbed his still-tired eyes. Shouting back, the Texan demanded what was going on.

Smugly replying, the guard said he had a visitor.

Raising a brow, Doug stood up to find the same quarian woman from before.

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy.

The alien nervously wrung her fingers together as she stood in front of the energy barrier that kept Doug in. A combat knife was strapped to her boot, but other than that she was unarmed. When the marine approached the barrier, the woman nodded and greeted in a tiny voice, "Hey…You're Doug, right?"

The man nodded with a hand up in the air as if he was gripping a hat like a cowboy and replied in a low voice kindness, "Howdy, and yes ma'am that's my name. You must be Miss Zorah?"

Fingers still being wrung around, the tiny woman nodded slowly. She was obviously wary of the human in front of her, a human easily twice her size and three times her strength. The same human who was shaking with rage earlier, calling her an 'alien freak' with a handgun raised, finger pressing against the trigger.

Doug managed a fake grin, "Miss, I'm honestly the last person you'd probably wanna see…" He glanced down at his feet, fake grin gone, "Especially after what I did."

Staying silent for a moment, Tali spoke up, voice stronger than before, "Someone had to come down and let you out." Her hand went to an unseen panel, and the energy field disappeared. "Captain Drescher was informed of what happened…"

Grimacing, Doug could only think of the consequences. Several personal reprimands followed by demotion, maybe even worse. What he pulled wasn't befitting of any Alliance Marine.

"…and he agreed to have you set free, upon Shepard's request. No strings attached."

And then an eyebrow shot up as the quarian moved away from the doorway, allowing Doug to leave his cell.

"Why would Shepard want me out?" Doug started for the exit, Tali followed, "I pulled a gun on you." He glanced back, tone genuine, "Which I'm sorry for, by the way."

Tali sighed, silver eyes falling to her fingers, still wrestling with each other, "It's… my fault. All of it."

Doug froze in the middle of the hall, the quarian nearly running into him. He turned and stared right past her mask, "Miss, I pulled the gun on you."

"And I shot your friend, _twice_." Her fingers finally released, her hands wrapping around her arms, crossing over her stomach, "If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have died on that table. _Keelah_, I'm sorry…"

Doug managed a real smile as he carefully placed a hand on the alien's slender shoulder, "First of all, I was acting like a dick and you probably know it Miss Zorah. Secondly, I don't think I'm the one you should be apologizing to. Maybe the one you shot is more deserving of your kind words."

With that, the marine started down the hall again. He made his way past fellow jarheads and servicemen before entering a free elevator, Tali right behind him. Her finger selected the medical bay and Doug smiled. He'd leave her alone; visit Tank on his own time. His finger found the deck that held his team's quarters. Time to get some real sleep, on a real bed.

Humming to life, the elevator rose through the guts of the _Chicago_, before halting. Sturgis called out politely over the intercom, _"Destination reached. Welcome to the medical bay."_

The doors parted, and Tali slowly began to walk out. Doug held the door open and called out to her. She turned, silver eyes scanning him again. At first, words refused to come forth. If there were two things the Texan hated to do, it was ugly women hitting on him, and trying to give an honest apology. Both were equally horrible to him, but he needed to do this.

"_I'm _sorry for what I said earlier, 'alien freaks' and all?" He smirked as his eyes trailed up and down the quarian's body. God, they had some hips of them. "If anything, you're quite lovely to look at, and that suit helps a _lot_."

The woman was taken aback for a moment, "You…_bosh'tet_!"

Letting the doors shut as the alien approached menacingly, Doug laughed to himself as he heard the woman bang on the door, the pounding becoming duller as the elevator rose higher into the cruiser.

He fell to the floor and pressed his back against the far wall, still cackling.

"Not the worse thing I've been called." More laughter. "Not by a long shot."

* * *

Peace.


	17. Could Have Done

Could Have Done

* * *

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Stirring in his slumber, the _Normandy's _pilot snorted and adjusted his position in the cockpit's chair. The SR-2 cap was lowered over his eyes, feet kicked up on the controls. Dreaming of a rather beautiful asari, the brittle-boned pilot unconsciously ignored the following wave of booms that rattled the metal of the frigate.

"_Let me in!"_

Spittle dribbled from the corner of his lip, followed by another sleep-induced snort.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

The glowing image of EDI appeared on her pedestal, the bulb of azure light turned to the pilot, as if speaking to him. Joker had muted the AI hours before.

"_Joker, I swear…Open the door!"_

_Bang. Bang…_

A pause.

_BANG!_

Joker sprang to life, practically jumping out of his chair as he fell to the floor. He threw up his left hand to soften his fall, only to get the brunt of his weight to land on it. An audible crack was heard; signaling that Joker's already weakened left thumb had either broke or was close to it.

Perfect. Now what was he going to use to mute EDI?

Ashley's muffled voice forced the pilot to his feet, _"I know you're in there, Joker. Unlock the door!"_

Carefully climbing to his feet, the pilot grabbed his crutches and lifted his leg, still wrapped in a cast, behind him. Pressing towards the thick door that usually separated the cockpit from space, Joker called out in a voice that did nothing to hide the fact that he had just been woken up, "Who is it?"

A frustrated fist met the frigate's hull from the other side, _"Who do you think?"_

"The asari I was just dreaming about?"

Ashley growled, before relenting slightly, _"Come on, Joker. I need to talk to Shepard."_

Sluggishly rubbing his eyes, Joker slapped a hand against the control panel, the door groaned as it revealed a pissed Ashley Williams standing before the pilot. She was dressed in the standard off-duty blues that everyone had to wear back aboard the first _Normandy_.

Taking his eyes from her figure, Joker noticed she held her right hand carefully, either holding it back about to punch the man in front of her or hiding the fact that she had used it to viciously pound away at the _Normandy's _hull for the past few minutes.

"You know," Joker yawned, "it's like two in the morning, technically."

"Aww, does the computer give you a bedtime, Joker?"

Hobbling back to his chair, Joker threw his crutches aside and picked his hat up from the floor. Yawing again, he eased himself back in, ignoring the chastising remark. Lowering the brim over his eyes, he kicked his feet up and lazily instructed, "Head to the back of the CIC, take the elevator all the way to the top. Good night."

Taking a nervous step onto the ship, Ash saw the glowing embodiment of EDI more or less 'staring' at her. It didn't seem hostile, just somewhat curious of the woman's presence this late. Ash got a similar feeling the first time she was aboard, when they lifted off from Kalgha, that desert nightmare.

She turned for the CIC, only for Joker's voice to follow her.

"If I find any dents in the morning, I'm gonna start charging for admittance."

Rolling her eyes, Ash walked past members of what she guessed was the _Normandy's _skeleton crew hard at work. Several were in chairs, in front of orange screens displaying rivers of information. Others were taking panels from the floor off and digging into the wires beneath. She half-expected to see Navigator Pressly standing before the galaxy map.

_God, I miss him._

Pressly was a good man, always willing to listen to you whenever he was available. Ashley had several conversations with the Navigator, ranging from their views on the crew to Shepard himself. Now _those _were always interesting.

She brushed past a woman with fiery red hair, standing before a computer terminal. The woman didn't notice at first, enthralled by whatever she was reading, but she snapped out of her gaze and turned to Ashley, "Sorry," she apologized, "didn't see you…Oh, Chief Williams?"

"Yes?" The Chief turned to the woman. She looked tired.

"I take it you're going up to see the Commander?"

Ash nodded.

"I'm Kelly, and I need to talk to you about Shepard." Kelly glanced nervously around, as if people were listening in. Of course, no one was. "He's been taking the death of Jack rather badly." The woman explained with heartfelt worry wrapped around every word.

"Who's he?"

"_She _was a member of his team, a very powerful - if unstable - biotic. After the crew told him that she was killed in action, he hasn't been talking to anyone." The yeoman rubbed the back of her neck with hesitation, "I…am worried. His psyche reports have shown he's taken the loss of comrades badly before and…" Her eyes met Ashley; a glow of motherly protection was behind them, "Just be gentle with him, please."

Nodding, the marine walked into the empty elevator and selected the top floor. Captain's Cabin.

The doors shut, and after a few moments, reopened to reveal a large room. An office desk littered with computer terminals and cases for various medals took up the first part of the room, the far wall housed an aquarium, several fish swam about. They seemed underfed.

A set of stairs led to what took up most of the cabin. A large locker revealed Shepard's combat armor, red bloodstripe going down the right arm, while the N7 symbol on the chestplate shined from a recent polishing.

And on a large bed, sat Shepard, hands pressed against his forehead, elbows on his knees. His eyes stared at the floor, not even looking up for his visitor. He looked dead tired, defeated, and just plain miserable.

"S-Skipper?" Ashley stammered, already thrown off by his demeanor.

Slowly, the man looked up, his brow quickly furrowed. His gaze went back down to his feet.

_Jesus, not even a smile. _Ashley grimaced.

"I don't get it, Ash. I just don't."

Carefully making her way towards her former Commander, the woman asked, "Don't get what, Skipper?"

Shepard didn't respond at first, still staring at his feet. A long sigh, and he turned back to the woman, now standing next to him, "Whenever…Whenever I _lose _somebody…I'm always told there was nothing I could've done. Nothing I could've done for my men on Akuze, nothing for Kaidan, nothing for Jack…" The man's hands rubbed his eyes, out of frustration and anger. "It's all bullshit, that's all it ever was."

"Skipper…" Ash warned, putting a careful hand on his shoulder, "You did all you could, for everyone."

The man, the hero of humanity, one who defined himself as a confident soldier willing to go through hell and back, shook his head.

"I could've done more, always could have." Shepard glanced at his armor…it reminded him of Akuze. He could still see the thresher maws tearing his men apart and all the blood that stained the ground that day. To see a man dissolved from thresher acid, all while still alive, that followed you forever. So did letting a man stay behind while a nuke went off right next to him.

Jack died, and he wasn't even _there_. Garrus told him they were on the other side of the prison, near his cell. No way he could've done anything. That still didn't stop the feeling as if he had failed.

It didn't matter if your scout was killed by a sniper miles away, _you _were the one responsible. _You _had to write to the family, give them the folded flag, comfort the grieving siblings. _You _had to assure they died a hero, even if they bled out in a ditch, begging for help.

But Jack wouldn't get any of that. She was a sociopathic criminal, considered a bane to society. Her death would be met with more cheers than sobs.

Ash sat next to the man, hand still on his shoulder, "If things didn't happen the way they did…well, we wouldn't have _you_." She squeezed, showing her concern, "We wouldn't have the brave soul willing to do what the Council wouldn't; put up a fight against the Reapers."

"If you…" Her throat immediately tightened, the thought making her shiver. He looked at her, concern in his eyes this time. "If you _died_ on Akuze, _nobody _would've been able to stop Saren from opening up the Citadel Relay. If you martyred yourself for Kaidan or me, none of us would be here, Skipper. What you've been through, it's not God punishing you, he's making you what you are. Something more than just a mere man."

A weak smile broke through as his eyes locked with hers. "'_Not unbecoming of men who strove with Gods,_' huh?"

She returned the grin; the tightness around her throat was quickly replaced with warmth.

Silence followed, the two soldiers kept their gazes locked with each other. Her hand went up and gently cupped his cheek.

Ash missed Shepard so much, those two long years of believing he was gone. And now, after Ilos, after all the naysayers, all the political crap, and all of the questions that she was left to answer, he was right _here_. Sitting right next to her.

He lifted his left hand, reaching for Ashley.

She was still as beautiful as ever.

The Chief noticed the bandages wrapped tightly around his palm. "Damn, Skipper. What'd you do?"

Shepard raised a brow in question, until his eyes found the bandages. Memories of Last Dawn came back quick. Him being dragged their after being subdued, thrown in a cell, nearly thrown off a railing by Antalus.

Zaael helped Shepard when he burnt his hand on the security field to his cell.

Zaael!

Shepard bolted to his feet, "Damn it, I forgot about him!"

Ashley laughed and grabbed his forearm tightly, "Forgot about who?"

"Zaael! The man who practically saved my ass half a dozen times in that prison."

"He's fine! He's fine!" She pulled back down onto the bed. "That's what I came here for. I just did a checkup on him. Doc said he was pretty banged up, but stable. As long as no one sneezes on him, he'll be fine."

She grabbed his hand and carefully began to remove the bandages, slowly unwrapping the white cloth. Finally freed, Shepard pressed each finger against his palm, his burns gone.

The man relaxed ever so slightly and sighed, his eyes fell back to the floor, "Ash…tell me about the funeral they held. For me…"

She raised a brow at the sudden question. _Funeral? Why would he want to know about that?_

"Didn't Garrus or Tali talk to you about it?"

Shepard shook his head, "No. Garrus went back to C-Sec and was forced to work security for most of that day. Tali came, but she didn't want to talk about it."

Nodding, Ash explained that she was asked personally by Anderson to not only attend, but take part. It was the least she could have done, but as she gave that folded flag to his mother…it hurt. It hurt bad.

The mention of Hannah Shepard made the Spectre before her grimace. He knew that his mother went through hell when he was killed by the Collectors.

Most of the surviving _Normandy _crew attended, along with Alliance brass. The Council didn't attend save for Anderson and Udina, the latter looked as if he _really _did not want to be there. Ash paraphrased most of the speeches given, first by Admiral Hackett, several followed by others, and finally Anderson gave a brief eulogy of sorts. Every time the man looked down at the empty casket, his steely voice that commanded respect and attention faltered.

But the man finished his speech, saying that Shepard was more than just a good friend, but more of a son to him.

As soon as those words left Ashley's mouth, Shepard smiled.

Ashley frowned, "And then that _harpy _came along…"

Shepard turned, his brow raised this time. Ash stood up and activated her omni-tool, and selected the video she had promised herself too many times over to delete and forget about, but she simply refused. The image projected from her tool to the far wall, "You remember our friendly reporter from Westerlund News? Miss al-Jilani?"

That name made Shepard's blood turn a little cold. Jilani was a conniving little 'reporter' who only wished to smear his image, and he knew this video wouldn't turn out well.

Ash hit play.

The projection revealed Khalisah al-Jilani and her camera-drone approaching what looked like a sickly-looking Joker talking with Chakwas and a few Alliance soldiers, two hours after the funeral had adjourned. The gray-haired doctor held up the former pilot by locking her arm with his, allowing him to stand and walk around without the aid of crutches.

"_Excuse me, Flight Lieutenant Moreau?" _Joker turned his head, the frown already on his face got a little deeper. Chakwas grimaced.

The reporter held out her hand as her floating camera got into position over her shoulder, _"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. I was hoping for a moment of your time, regarding your service aboard the SSV __**Normandy**__? Particularly during your service with Commander Shepard __after__ the geth attack on the Citadel."_

Shepard watched as Joker's face twisted into an expression of suspicion, but with Chakwas holding onto him and no nearby crutches, he wasn't getting away from this lady. The man adjusted his uniform slightly before slightly cocking his head, _"What do you want to know?"_

The camera-drone focused in on the pilot as al-Jilani narrowed her eyes, with a smile creeping up on her lips, _"Is it correct that your insistence on trying to save the already doomed __**Normandy**__ was what caused Commander Shepard to lose his life? Isn't it true that he had to waste precious time saving you, when you could have just as easily run into an escape pod mere feet away?"_

Chakwas growled, _"This is hardly appropriate after his funeral."_

"_I'll defend myself." _Joker hissed to the doctor, uncharacteristically angry. His hard eyes found al-Jilani. _"Yes, I insisted on saving __my__ ship. And if I did nothing and just left, more would have died. I honestly didn't expect him to come back."_

"_But he did, and he died saving you. Does that not make you responsible?"_

Joker's jaw tightened, his balled fists began to tremble. Chakwas tightened her grip and whispered something in the pilot's ear.

"_Well?" _al-Jilani continued, demanding an answer all the while she had a devilish smirk growing on her face. _"I'm sure our viewers would like an answer."_

This bitch was trying to get a rise out of the man, and she was _enjoying_ it. Rest assured, Joker wasn't going to let her enjoy herself for much longer. She opened her mouth to ask yet again, but the fist that cracked against her cheek shut her up. Stumbling backwards, al-Jilani fell to the floor indignantly, spitting curses.

"_You crippled bastard!" _The camera-drone first turned to the woman, cheek red from the blow, before turning to Joker. He shook his hand wildly, face contorted in a snarl of pain. He broke a finger punching her.

Ashley paused the video, leaving Shepard with a grin on his face.

"Damn." He said, now starting to laugh. "Joker did what I've always wanted to do."

Ash joined in, starting to chuckle her own self, "You should've seen her afterwards, she marched all over the place screaming, demanding that someone arrest him. You can imagine no one paid attention to her after that."

Smile still on his face, Shepard shook his head as he imagined the tirade that woman put on.

"So, Ash." Shepard beckoned as the Chief deactivated her tool. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

A certain smirk appeared on Ashley's face, one that he had seen before. It was one that brimmed with self-confidence, a fox-like cleverness, and a stubborn determination to get whatever she wanted.

"What's wrong, Skip? Can't I deliver news to you personally?" The smirk persisted as she approached. "I thought you claimed yourself to be more of a…'hands-on' sort of man."

"And I always thought you were a woman who didn't like to waste time." He retorted, his own grin beginning to form.

"You got me there." Her eyes drifted from his, going lower and lower. "So let's stop beating around the bush."

She shoved him onto the bed and quickly pounced on top of the Spectre, not fearing regulations. Hell, Shepard was no longer in the Alliance anyways. She pressed her hands against his shoulders, pinning him. The smirk persisted as she breathed in his scent. It reminded her of the air after it rained.

Cool and serene.

Her hand traveled across his chest, before wandering downwards for his beltline and what waited beyond. Strong fingers wrapped around hers, halting her advance. Ashley's dark orbs found Shepard's yet again as she gave an annoyed groan.

"Ash." Shepard said. "I'm sorry. For everything, for not contacting you sooner, for Horizon…" A nervous laugh, "For not replying to that message you sent."

Ashley smiled again, "Oh yeah." She formed a fist and rammed it into his ribs, forcing a grunt of the man. "We're even now. For God's sake, kiss me already."

Wrapping his hands around the small of her back, he flipped her over, now straddling the Chief.

And the he followed her order to his fullest extent.

* * *

**SSV **_**Chicago, **_**HAZMAT Ward.**

The smell of chlorine and ammonia slowly began to spread throughout the sterilized room.

Jim had grown accustomed to the odor. It had followed him for most of his career, and it had practically been imbedded in his DNA.

The Major's eyes found his quarian patient, trying to sit up. His hand flew to his stomach immediately, three fingers pressing against his wound. A steady hiss of annoyance escalated to a nasty curse out of pain.

"Rrrgh, _Keelah _damn it!"

Jim huffed as he approached his patient, "I wouldn't suggest moving if I were you. Your ribs are still healing, and the skin along your stomach has just been stitched. So be careful, unless you want to rip out every stitch I just put in."

Zaael groaned as he looked up at the human. He was covered in a metal hazmat suit and matching helmet, decorated with biohazard symbols. Any place that wasn't covered in a metal shell was lined with plastic, underneath that was more plastic. The belt he wore had several tools attached to it, along with a data-pad, its screen running with information. The man's eyes, which were the only thing he could see behind the helmet he wore, looked tired.

Looking back at his feet, the quarian ran a finger along his cracked visor. His heads-up display flickered weakly, his suit low on the auxiliary power that kept the HUD and VI working properly.

"Your suit's been badly damaged." Jim explained as he lifted the data-pad in front of his eyes, "We had to remove most of it to get to your wounds, and luckily your swimming in enough antibiotics and pain meds to keep yourself from passing out in pain."

Zaael chuckled, which hurt his whole torso, "How come it still hurts?"

"If we gave you any more pain meds you'd probably be comatose right now." Jim flicked through the information on his screen and then bluntly added, "We need to talk about what you contracted down in that prison."

Clearing his throat, Zaael tried to state he had no idea what he was talking about, only to be interrupted by a bout of coughing that set his lungs on fire.

"That's what I'm talking about." Jim placed the data-pad on a nearby table and sighed, shaking his head. "You ever get a high fever with that cough, followed by vomiting?" Zaael nodded slowly. "Was there ever any blood in that vomit? Even if it's only happened once?" He nodded again. Jim smacked a fist into the palm of his hand, letting out a low curse. "_Shit_!"

"What?" The quarian started to laugh, ignoring the lances of pain shooting up his sides, "I'm a quarian for _Keelah's_ sake. We get sick, nothin' new."

The Major didn't want to hear that crap. Countless marines lied to him about what they were experiencing, and a lot of them died for their arrogance or fear of discharge. He wasn't going to let his current patient get away with it.

"So puking up blood is completely normal thing that quarians go through, huh?" Jim finally replied, his tone icy. "'Cuz last time I checked, that isn't natural." He shook his head as he recited what he had just read from his data-pad, "You have a severe bacterial infection, brought on by the shitty conditions you were living in down in that penitentiary. Did they ever clean your goddamned cells?"

"Yeah, a lot actually." Zaael carefully rubbed his ribs, trying to force the stinging away. "Only place they didn't clean was the pits."

"Pits?" Jim questioned, anger gone for a moment, replaced by intrigue.

Zaael chuckled, which brought on more pain and coughs. Now that he thought about it, his muscles felt pretty stiff and a headache was coming on. Ignoring the distractions of a sickened body, he sat up straight and began to explain what the pits exactly were.

Jim wasn't exactly surprised. "Those conditions are inhumane, especially coming from a turian-run facility. You should be thankful it wasn't a batarian prison, you wouldn't be alive right now." Clearing his throat, Jim got back on point, "Regarding your current condition, the antibiotics your suit's VI administered aren't top-grade by any means, but they've managed to stave off the bacteria from killing you."

"Then I should be fine-"

"_But,_" Jim interrupted, raising a finger, "it won't be able to work forever. Recent blood scans have shown this strain of bacteria is rapidly adapting to the medicine being injected, and thus able to multiply with more efficiency." The Major tried to run a hand through his hair, ignorant of the fact he was in his hazmat suit. "We have certain medicines that _would _help, if you were human. But the severity of the infection along with the fact you're dextro-DNA throws all the drugs we have out the window."

Nodding, Zaael knew. He held up both hands palms-up like a balance, moving each hand up or down, "Either the drugs wouldn't be strong enough, or they'd kill me."

"Precisely." The Major nodded, "The only place that has the treatments you require is the Migrant Fleet." Activating his omni-tool, Jim walked towards the exit, "I've notified Commander Shepard, as his ship is free to travel anywhere. Fifth Fleet is heading back to the Citadel within the week." He turned to the quarian, "I'd advise that you get some rest, it'll help, trust me."

With that, Jim nodded and opened the exit, "Goodnight, Zaael'Mirku."

Zaael groaned as he laid back against the bed. His eyes traveled around the plastic environment that enveloped him. In a way it reminded him of the Fleet, sterile, closed off. Except at least it was quiet here. Quiet was bad when you traveled with the Fleet. That always meant something was wrong.

For once, he tried to enjoy the silence, willing himself into sleep.

It didn't last long.

"Zaael." A giant hand nudged his shoulder. "Get up."

The alien sighed, not even opening his eyes. "What is it, Keelan?"

"Is it true that we're heading back to the Flotilla?"

Zaael forced his eyes open to find Keelan standing over him. Sitting up again, the older quarian ignored his pain as he answered quickly, "Yes, yes. At least I'll be. How'd you get in here?"

The explosives junkie gave a half-smile, "Had Tarlan hack the door for me."

Not every quarian had an affinity for technology, Keelan being a prime example. He would rather blow off a finger than struggle with the 'art' of designing intelligence programs or hacking systems.

If given the choice, Keelan would take making things go boom every single time.

The mention of Tarlan made Zaael grimace. Ferrin, practically Tarlan's brother, had been shot and killed by the traitorous Carrick. He knew he'd be taking it hard.

"Why are you so concerned anyways?"

Keelan shook his head, "Prearra."

Prearra. Keelan's wife.

The quarian finished his Pilgrimage at nineteen, joined the Migrant Fleet Marines at twenty-two, and married a beautiful girl by the name of Prearra a year later. Two and a half years of being held back by the Fleet made the young man angry, unable to use his talents in a real fight. That's when he left his wife and the Flotilla, but not before leaving his mark.

After forcing everyone off his birth-ship with a false warning of a hull breach, he blew the vessel to particles. Then began Keelan's turn to working as a mercenary of sorts, killing and raiding ships for cash. He worked that for about a year, until he was offered a special job on Omega.

Kill Aria T'Loak. No matter how, just get the job done.

So Keelan decided to blow the crime-ridden station in half. Obviously, his plan was halted, by none other than a squad of Black Talons. He then spent the next seven years in jail.

And now they might be heading back to the Migrant Fleet, depending on whether or not Shepard was able to take them.

But the thought of seeing his wife again, even if he did exile himself, was overwhelming.

"Keelan." Zaael coughed. "You _can't _go back, after what you did, you _know _that."

The other quarian didn't want to listen, "But she's there! I turned my back on her once! I can't do it again, if we do get to go back." He began to pace, crossing his large arms over his wide chest, "What if I took on someone else's identity, like Ferrin's? They probably wiped my name from all the charters anyways."

"No!" Zaael stood, fighting against the wave of pain that nearly made him blackout. Forcing his stiff legs to move forward, he dragged himself to the man before him, grabbing his arm, "That is a crime greater than yours! Stealing a crewmate's name is a greater dishonor to the quarian people than exile." He forced the giant backwards, against a plastic covered wall. His vision began to get blurry; he could taste blood in his mouth.

Panting, the quarian looked up and locked in on Keelan's silver eyes, "You… cannot…do this."

"But I love her…"

"You say that…but do you mean it?" Zaael could barely breathe, each ragged breath becoming tougher to come by.

Keelan nodded, his voice wavered ever so slightly, "I d-do. _Keelah _knows I do."

"Then stay! You'd only cause turmoil. Don't bring this upon yourself!"

And with that, the quarian's knees buckled, cracking against the floor. He was caught by his friend, who then carried him back to the bed. Easing him onto the mattress, Keelan gently released his friend. Not saying another word, the man stood and turned for the door.

_Keelah help me…_

* * *

Peace.


	18. Different Once

Different Once

* * *

**Black Talon Flagship **_**Carthaan**_**, above Kalgha. **

Antalus tapped away on the tracking console before him, following the Alliance vessels that floated on the edge of the system, slowly approaching the outgoing mass relay. His eyes darted from screen to screen as each forward sensor reported in.

They were clean, all across the board. Alliance vessels weren't able to detect what was left of the Talon fleet, letting the Lieutenant relax just a bit. For the past few hours have been a dangerous game of cat and mouse, as the humans liked to refer it as. So far, their objective had been recover survivors and equipment aboard the crippled Talon ships before the humans could pick everything away like vultures.

Farrax insisted they would need every man they could find, for the upcoming operations would be crucial. But Antalus' confidence in his commanding officer had been…diminishing as of late.

He had become erratic, easy to anger, and just plain _different_. Not unlike the man Antalus had first met, all the way back during training.

"You idiot!"

Antalus glanced towards the origin of the shouting, to find none other than his Captain standing over a reporting subordinate. He shoved a data-pad back into his hands, "Don't you dare send me an outdated star chart, ever again. Do I make myself clear, Ensign?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

The Ensign hurried off back to his console to the left of Antalus and pulled up a more recent chart while Farrax stormed for his quarters, rubbing the bandages that covered his left mandible.

He wasn't like this when he took the deal from the Illusive Man and Cerberus, something only he and Antalus really knew about. Every other Talon was convinced that the Hierarchy demanded Shepard's capture, and so far no one has asked any questions. Lying to his fellow soldiers made Antalus wary, almost to the point of being called guilt-ridden. Training forged the others around into brothers, people who you could trust with your life.

Antalus, at times, felt like he went back on that.

But Farrax said it was justified, for the capture of the Commander would 'benefit the whole galaxy.'

The Captain appeared to becoming more and more unstable ever since they found that freighter, adrift in space months ago mere days after they met with Cerberus. When checking for survivors, Farrax volunteered to go into a highly-irradiated cargo area alone. He came out quiet, distant, as if from shell shock.

The first month or two, little change was noticed by Antalus, other than the fact that Farrax had slept more and more often after missions. Then he became irritable, easily annoyed over simple things. When working with Warden Tordun, his irritability became apparent with the guards. It only got worse once Shepard was apprehended. Farrax had _shot _Antalus in the foot.

Admittedly, Antalus acted out like an idiot, threatening to throw the human they just captured from the second floor. But shooting a subordinate was extreme, even for a Talon.

And then… and then to see Farrax _crush _Tordun's skull underneath his boot just wasn't natural. You didn't learn how to do that in basic training.

"Spirits be damned!" The Ensign hissed, glaring at his screen. "What's gotten into him?"

"That freighter." Antalus replied, eyes still watching as the last Alliance ships made the jump through the relay. It had to be. Whatever was on that spirit-damned thing set the man off in some way or another.

"What freighter?" The Ensign scoffed, mandibles twitching in irritation as he downloaded the newer star chart.

"You don't remember that derelict ship, from a few months back?"

The Ensign shook his head, "Nah, I heard about it, but I was pullin' double duty up here on the bridge when it went down."

"Trust me, be glad you weren't there." Antalus sighed, "Trust me."

* * *

_He stared at the holo in his hands, a small smirk on his lips. The little girl in the photo was no more than six years old._

_His little girl._

"_Cute kid. She yours?"_

_Antalus looked up to see his Captain standing over a him, a smile on his face as well._

"_Yes sir." The Lieutenant nodded as he stood from his seat._

_Farrax laughed, "Easy, son. Sit down. How old is she?"_

_The Lieutenant told him that it was a photo from his daughter's birthday. She just turned six years old back on Palaven. He hadn't seen her since his last shore-leave, which had been well over a year and a half ago._

"_You got any family waiting on you, sir?"_

_Taking a seat next to the younger officer, Farrax slowly nodded, a ghost of a grin on his face, "Yeah…got a wife. Real hellcat in bed." He chuckled to himself, fondly remembering their wedding night. The Captain turned back to his comrade, "You're married, right? Bad idea raising a kid and not being married, you know."_

_Antalus grit his teeth before just giving a meek smile. "Well, I'm working on it, sir."_

_Farrax seemed shocked, "Whoa, whoa. Let me get this straight. You have a kid, six years old, is she?" Antalus nodded, Farrax continued, "And you and your girlfriend aren't __married__?" The Talon's eyes went wide as he gave a sharp whistle. "Wow, okay let me ask you something."_

_Antalus nodded as he listened._

"_If you love that woman and your kid, go and get married."_

"_Well, she calls us mom and dad so I don't see the rush in-"_

_Farrax stuck a finger up, "Do she have a ring on her finger, or yours for that matter?"_

"_No, sir."_

_Farrax huffed and turned his head, smile on his face. He made his point._

_Forward warning sirens blared over the intercom, followed by the pilot's voice, "Captain! We got something on the forward scanners. Looks like a derelict ship. Massive damage to its hull…you might want to take a look at this, sir."_

_The Captain and Lieutenant immediately rose from their seats, both marched for the cockpit. They arrived to a scene where there pilot was pulling up an image of the ship in question on the main screen. She was a Athabasca Class freighter, major damage along the stern and port side suggested explosions. The way the hull jutted outward, it seemed the explosions came from within._

"_Scan it." Farrax ordered, his voice steady and commanding. A layer of ice wrapped around the man, his mind back into combat mode._

_The pilot brought up the results, "The vessel's the MSV __**Blinding Dawn**__, runs deep salvage ops. No response to our hails. Got a crew of sixteen, all human. Hasn't been reported missing…looks like she's been out her for days though. Radiation is present throughout the ship, at extremely high levels." The pilot furrowed his brow and clicked his mandibles, "That's suicide. No one could survive that-"_

"_That means they're either all dead or gone." Farrax callously added. "Let's pray for the latter." Sighing, the Captain turned to Antalus, "Gather Rorrik, Vinnarii, and Erandus. I want you all suited up, full combat gear. We're finding out what happened in there."_

"_Is it possible to dock?"_

_Antalus could barely hear the question being asked through his radio as the shuttle disengaged from the __**Carthaan**__, carrying five Talons towards the apparently abandoned __**Blinding Dawn**__._

_The shuttle's pilot answered the Captain, "Negative, sir. All docking ports are blown out and collapsed. No way for us to connect to their hull."_

_Farrax could feel his mandibles press against his helmet in irritation, but he expected as much. That freighter took a lot of damage. Damage from the __inside__ no less._

_He didn't like it. Something was up. _

_How did the humans say it? Something…fishy was going on? Never mind. _

_Brushing away those silly thoughts, Farrax turned his eye for the large hull breaches near the rear of the __**Dawn**__. Big enough for a man, or five, to squeeze through. The floor beyond seemed to be intact and structurally sound, but one could never tell until their boots his the floor._

* * *

_The Captain turned back to the Talons in the main bay, waiting on his word, "All right people, here's the drill; that ship has gone dark and we're here to find out why. Radiation is at a high level, but your armor should be able to handle it. But, if you here your emergency rad-counters go off… Get. Out. We clear?"_

_Everyone responded with a enthusiastic 'yes sir!' Farrax nodded._

"_Good. Keep your weapons ready, just in case." He turned back to the pilot and pointed over his shoulder, at the largest hole in the ship. "Get us in position over that breach."_

_The turian then marched out of the cockpit and sealed the door behind him. He glanced at his Talons. They all filled out their black armor well as they rose from their seats, tattooed faces hidden behind equally black helmets. If any of them had pre-op jitters, they were gone now. What stood before the Captain made him proud. _

_In his mind, these were the perfect soldiers._

_He slapped down on the side door's controls, venting the air out as the doors revealed the starry expanse of space. What he saw in the distance was breathtaking. A nebula of a fantastic green hue drifted billions of miles away, closer by, a dying sun was expelling long bursts of fire into the vacuum._

_It was sometimes hard to believe that his armor was the only thing keeping him from suffocating._

_Bringing himself back to the matter at hand, Farrax looked down to the ghostly ship below the shuttle. Electrical support was barely functioning, it seemed. Lights on the inside of the ship flickered to life weakly every now and again, but remained mostly dark._

_He glanced at Antalus and the others, "Follow my lead."_

_And he jumped, out into the void. _

_Kicking his boots 'up' and away from the freighter, he activated the air boosters, providing him with forward thrust. There was a reason they used air as opposed to flame propellant. Cold air didn't show up on enemy sensors, in a usually infinitely cold universe._

_Drifting forward towards the hull breach, Farrax kicked his feet back 'down', towards the waiting floor through the hole. A moment later, his feet hit the deck soundlessly and magnetically latched on. No echo for his entrance, since there was no air within the ship for sound to bounce off of._

_Just the sound of his own thoughts to accompany him now._

_He had landed in a crew quarters of some sort, bunks lined the far wall. A refrigerator sat in the corner. Curiously, he opened the container, and found it fully stocked with provisions._

_Farrax ruled out starvation._

_As his fellow Talons landed within the ship, he pondered other reasons. Maybe a mutiny, or critical systems failure. Either way, he wasn't going to find out here._

"_Everyone, form up on me. I'll take point."_

_Antalus wasn't surprised that Farrax was taking point. He always did. 'Lead by example,' Farrax would always say. 'Show your men that you're willing to lay your life on the line for them, and they shall do the same for you.' _

_The Talons made their out of the crew quarters and down a dark hallway. _

_Not needing a spoken order, each turian activated their flashlight, casting spectral beams of white through the blackness._

_What Vinnarii's beam found wasn't pretty. The hallway they traveled down forked off into two different directions, one for the bridge, one for the rest of the ship. Her beam peered the second of the two, finding two bodies, floating in the zero-g. _

_Both were human, male. One had his whole abdomen seemingly ripped out, what was left of his innards dangled out of him. The other had his throat torn open, scratch marks covered his face, both of his eyes were gone, black holes were all that was left. Both bodies where frozen stiff from the vacuum._

"_Bodies here, sir." The woman reported. _

_Everyone turned toward the sight. No one said anything at first, each drawing up their own presumptions in their heads as to what happened._

"_Looks like they tore each other apart…" Erandus slowly said, "…with their hands…Like madmen…"_

_A huff from Rorrik as he hefted his Revenant, "As opposed to what? Killing each other like gentlemen?"_

"_Can it. Both of you." Antalus hissed, watching Farrax as he turned for the bridge. The Captain methodically moved, slowly putting one boot in front of the other until he reached the bridge doors. They slid open silently to reveal more corpses, suspended in the air._

_One was gored straight through the sternum with a lead pipe, both ends were blunt, indicating an almost inhuman force required for the wound. That dead human was the luckiest, as the others barely resembled what a human should like. _

_Gory masses covered the bridge controls and the pilot's seat, showing that whatever the hell happened, the pilot was attacked while still piloting the ship._

_Farrax turned and ordered Vinnarii to search through the ship's files, especially the captain's logs._

_Wiping gore away from the seats, the female Talon went through a barely functioning terminal, and attempted to pull up the commanding officer's logs. The man in charge made several entries, first few seemed mundane, then came a discovery of an artifact in deep space. The captain said it might've been Prothean, maybe even before that, but he wasn't sure._

_They were a salvage crew, not archeologists. He decided it be best that the ship take the artifact back to the Citadel, where a big payday could be in order. So he kept locked away in the cargo bay._

_But his writings seemed to lose coherence as they got closer to the present day, his musings became more erratic. The captain talked of 'things crawling into his skull, whispering to him,' and 'only __it__ could make the whispering stop.'_

_Then, it seemed all hell broke loose on the ship. Engineers were murdering each other, cargo workers were committing suicide, and the captain seemed to lose his sanity._

_Before the final vid could play, the power died, the terminal went dark._

"_Damn it." She hissed, slapping down on the controls. No point, auxiliary was gone as well. Looking up at her Captain, she shrugged and shook her head._

"_Well," Farrax began with a slow sigh, readying his rifle, "Let's head down to the cargo bay and find out what 'it' is."_

_More torn up bodies, more blood, and more silence were the only things that greeted the investigating turians._

_Radiation levels spiked higher and higher the closer the team got to the cargo bay, levels high enough to kill you on the spot if you weren't wearing any sort of protection. _

_Farrax grit his teeth as his team arrived at the main cargo bay. It was locked tight, unsurprisingly. That didn't worry him though, any one of his Talons could hack through a door like this in minutes._

_No. No no no._

_What worried him, was his emergency rad-counter started clicking in his ear, indicating that even with all his armor, he would be cooked by the harmful rays eventually. _

_So his next choice was easy. _

_He would go in first, as usual. And alone._

"_Sir, that's not a good idea." Vinnarii protested immediately. "My readings tell me that you'd only have ten minutes to find out what's in there before you'll fry."_

_Erandus stood, "Send me, sir."_

_Farrax shook his head, managing a weak chuckle. He wasn't going to let his men argue, "Decision's been made, kids. Vinnarii, open the door before I make you, please. Everyone else, guard my rear."_

_Groaning, the woman did as she was asked. Lighting up her omni-tool, she forced the cargo bay doors to grind open._

_The Captain quickly trotted inside, leaving the other Talons behind as the doors shut._

_Shaking his head, Rorrik released his grip on his Revenant, allowing it to float in the zero-g next to him as he took a seat on the deck. _

"_Captain's gotta play the fuckin' hero, doesn't he?" The Talon complained, rubbing his hands together, "I mean, whenever shit goes down, he's out there puffing out his chest and being the meat shield."_

"_Oh, I'm sorry you don't get to go into a place coated in radioactive crap." Erandus sneered. "The whole universe weeps for you."_

_Antalus just rolled his eyes as he pressed a finger against the side of his helmet, "Captain, you there? How bad is it? Over."_

_A few moments passed before his superior responded, "Ain't pretty in here. A lot of damage to the bay, still haven't found the artifact these humans were talking about. Keep the channel clear until I call back, over."_

"_Roger that, going silent."_

_With that, Antalus lifted his rifle, aiming his flashlight into the dark around him. He could tell this area got a lot of traffic, workers passing in and out as they carried salvage to this bay, hoping to make a quick buck. Deep space salvage was a hellish job, Antalus found himself working it before he joined the military. You were assigned to pick dead ships and space stations clean, working in a stuffy suit out in the vacuum for hours at a time. It was hazardous and hard work, but it was honest. Most of the time anyways. _

_Sometimes you'd come across a secret compartment, more often than not filled with stolen credits and red sand._

_Antalus saw the men and women he worked with, people he trusted, become savage when a few extra credits or ounces of drugs were involved. Guess space does that to you._

_His radio came to life for a brief moment, a burst of static washed through the channel before dieing out. The Lieutenant turned to the three other Talons. They shrugged, no idea what just happened either._

_Another pop of static, followed by __sobs__._

"…_Stop it…please."_

_Rorrik nervously glanced around, hands reaching out for his still floating machinegun. _

_The sobbing ceased._

"_They…intrude…yessssss. You're right…they DO intrude…"_

_Vinnarii and Erandus grabbed their weapons and lit their flashlights again, aiming down the corridor from where they had come. More radio chatter, again from none of the Talons._

"_Kill…Kill…KILL! KILL! KILL! RRRAGHH!"_

_A human form appeared at the end of the corridor. Only, it wasn't __human__._

_It looked more like a skeleton, metallic skin pulled over sharp bones. Long, glowing blue lines covered its body like scars. Its stomach had a disc-like protrusion stuck to it, pulsating a ghostly blue just like the scars it had. Teeth were sharp to a point, stained red. Fingers had turned into claws._

_Its blue eyes found the waiting turians…and it charged._

"_Stand down!" Antalus shouted, the thing ignored him. "Halt, or we will open fire!"_

_It snarled through the radio. The Lieutenant pulled the trigger._

_Three other Talons joined him, firing upon the creature. It barely flinched under the combined fire, still charging._

_Vinnarii reached for her shotgun, only to get tackled by the creature, clawing at her throat. Reacting, Rorrik drove his boot right into the thing's jaw, knocking it right off the woman and sending it to the floor._

_Before any of the Talons could react, a burst of white energy washed over them. Antalus slammed against the far wall, the back of his head cracked against a protruding bulkhead. His hardsuit VI started wailing, saying his shields had failed. _

_He opened his eyes to find the thing standing over him, ready to strike him down with raised claws. Training kicked in as he thrust his leg out, cracking against the creature's shin._

_It snapped in two, but not with the sound of bone cracking, rather that of metal._

_Wailing, the creature stumbled backwards, allowing the Lieutenant to climb to his feet._

"_Vinn, shoot it!"_

_Roaring like a feral raptor, the woman drove her foot into the creature's throat, forcing it to the ground with a metallic crunch. She pumped her shotgun and pressed the barrel against its forehead, and yanked back on the trigger. Its skull shattered to pieces as green 'blood' splattered the floor._

_The radio went silent again. Vinnarii backed away slowly, only for the creatures body to start wildly twitching. She shot it again, and again, and again._

_Finally, it stopped moving. Out of breath, she turned to her comrades, "What…the fuck…was that thing!"_

_Three loud bangs from the other side of the cargo bay doors was all that answered her. Captain Farrax's resonated over the radio, "Let me out! We are leaving!"_

_Vinnarii rushed back to the door and opened it up. Her Captain fell through the door, on hands and knees._

"_Sir!" Antalus rushed to his side, helping him to his feet._

_Whatever the hell this man had seen in that bay, it was __bad__._

"_Call the __**Carthaan**__, have it blow this damned ship to hell and back." Farrax ordered. "No trace of this vessel survives."_

* * *

Peace.


	19. Haunting

Haunting

* * *

_To: The Illusive Man_

_Subject: Subject Zero's Augmentation Progress_

_I'm not going to waste time with formalities sir, so I'll get right to the point._

_What our current scans and evaluations have uncovered is rather puzzling. Despite having no previous signs of dementia, schizophrenia, or any other mental/personality disorder, it appears that Subject Zero has developed just that. A split personality._

_I haven't been able to find out much, but I know that the cybernetic implants Subject Zero received from the Teltin Facility on Pragia are a direct cause for Zero's disorder. _

_Either way, we've begun the augmentation process at your request. Zero's current strength has seen a ten percent increase, along with speed and endurance. Her biotic potential is astounding, albeit destructive. She killed three of my assistants and one of my technicians before we managed to sedate and inhibit Zero, all deaths by her biotics alone. Still, even under the current dosage of sedatives and the grade of inhibitors we have, I fear that if we try to enhance her abilities any more, the damage could be catastrophic._

_Personally, I have little trust in that man who you've assigned to oversee our progress. He tells me that there's nothing to worry about, that his surgical 'additions' will keep Zero at least somewhat in check._

_Although I'd rather have someone from our own staff running this, I trust in your judgment._

_We shall proceed with the enhancement procedures as planned, and if successful, we may have created the most powerful human biotic, if the not the most powerful biotic in the galaxy._

_Doctor Phillip Andrews, Head of Biotic Augmentation and Research_

* * *

"Hey, Gordon."

The techie ignored the voice, trying to hold onto his current state of sleep.

"Gordon." It was Jane, he could feel her fingers prod the small of his back. He simply groaned and yanked his thin covers over his frame, trying to send an obvious message. That message was ignored as the fingers turned into a fist, cracking against his shoulder, "Come on, you lazy-ass. We need another man for the game."

Groaning again, the techie didn't roll over to the face the sniper, only grumbling, "What game?"

"Poker!" Doug shouted in his loud drawl, dragging the tired Gordon further out of sleep. "Good old-fashioned Texas Hold'em, none of that Skyllian Five crap. Now get your ass outta bed so we can play."

"Poker?" Gordon sighed. "You woke me up to ask me to play Poker with you guys?"

"Yeah," Jane grinned. "And if you don't get out of that rack right now, I'll drag you out. So what'll it be?"

Tightening his grip on his covers, Gordon just grunted and tried to go back to sleep. He felt a rough hand grab him by the waistband of his shorts and yank him backwards. A loud thump was heard as Gordon made contact with the deck, ass-first. Everyone around laughed.

Except Gordon of course, he rubbed a hand through his short hair, head shaking. "Fine…I'll play. Good lord…"

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he followed Jane out of the bunkroom to find a table set up in the center of the room, a couple chairs sat around it. Doug was fiddling with the deck, giving his best effort to shuffle them like an actual dealer. Too bad all he could do was make a mess. Guns sat next to him, laughing as he dropped the deck on the table yet again. The sniper approached, shaking her head in feigned shame as she snatched the deck of cards away from the Texan.

"How 'bout we let someone who's qualified do this, shall we?" Jane took up a seat, setting the deck out in front of her. Splitting the stack in two, she quickly forced them back together, one card falling on top of the other.

She looked up at everyone watching her, "Whenever they moved me from unit to unit, I never had time to get chummy with the others. I'd just be working with another one next month, right?" Jane split the deck, and then began dealing out the cards in two. "But the one thing I was always able to do, was take their money."

A devilish grin played upon her lips. Gordon just rolled his eyes.

Then Jane became icy, just like she did when a rifle was in her hands, "All right, ladies and gents. Credit chits on the table, buy-in is at thirty credits, big blind dishes ninety, little dishes out sixty."

Guns, Jane, and Doug rifled through their pockets and placed their respective chits on the table. Gordon just huffed, a smile forming, "You guys aren't seriously putting money into this, are you?"

"Yeah, that's what makes it _fun_." Guns curtly replied.

"Come on, man." Doug beckoned. "Ain't no fun if nothing's on the line."

Sighing, the techie fumbled through his pocket and pulled out his credit chit, downloaded thirty credits from his account, and threw it on the table. He had a sinking feeling this was going to be a bad idea.

The first few hands went in Gordon's favor surprisingly, he had managed to earn over two hundred credits. But later on, it was clear he was in over his head. Jane, the snake that she seemed to be, had earned twice that with little effort. Guns was in third, with Doug teetering on the brink of going broke.

Glaring at his cards, the Texan grinned as Jane revealed the flop. He put up his final one hundred and fifty credits, standing up out of his seat. "All in."

Guns folded, so did Gordon. Jane refused, calling his bluff.

Here came the turn and then the river. Five cards all together. A six of spades, jack and queen of clubs, and the three, four, and seven of hearts.

Doug flipped over his hand. He had a two pair.

Smile growing wider, the Texan calmly said, "Beat that."

Showing no emotion, Jane simply let her cards fall onto the table, face-up. Doug shook his head. She had a straight, easily beating his two pair. Meticulously, the woman picked up his credit chit with a grin as the Texan fell back into his chair, defeated. At this point, Jane had amassed enough to go out an get herself a decent sniper rifle, with attachments.

The game slowed down a bit after that, more conversation than actual playing. The four of them talked of their lives before they joined the military.

Guns was military all her life, both parents in the Alliance. She saw the stars from the biggest dreadnoughts, other times she was taken from colony to colony, living on the military bases. It was no surprise that she joined the Alliance at seventeen, thanks to consent from both her parents.

Doug used to live in the few remaining farmlands back on Earth, in the heart of Texas. He raised cattle and horses, tilled fields, wrestled with his _five_ other brothers. Turian farmhands worked for Doug's father, one of them taught a young Doug how to properly fire a rifle and Doug taught him how to properly ride a thoroughbred. But his dad became sick, stricken with a severe form of cancer. After selling the farm, Doug joined up with the Alliance, sending a share of his pay back to his father for medical treatments.

Jane didn't say much, just saying she grew up on a colony and enlisted when she found out she was good with a rifle.

The next few hands went on in relative silence, Jane kept playing like a shark. She forced Guns to play the last few credits she had, and predictably, the sniper beat her superior quickly.

"So, Gordon."

The techie looked up from his cards to Doug, who had a grin on his face.

"You got a lady friend any of us should know about?"

Eyes drifting back to his cards, Gordon simply shot back, "Why should that be any business of yours?"

Doug just shrugged, "Well, we've been stuck with each other for awhile now and I still know next to nothin' 'bout any of you. Plus, girlfriends are easy to talk about, 'less your ashamed or them or something."

Gordon couldn't help but laugh, "Trust me, I have _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

That peaked the Texan's interest, "Oh, well then. What does she look like? Blonde, maybe? You look like a guy who goes for blondes."

Lifting his omni-tool, Gordon just smiled as he brought up the only picture he had on it.

A young asari was in the tool's frame, a small smile on her beautiful face. She had light blue skin, with bright orange markings around her eyes and along her cheeks, symmetrical on both sides.

Jaw drooping, Doug couldn't find the words at first, "…She's…She's an _alien_?"

"Damn." Jane stated. "She's cute. What's her name?"

Her name was Ariadna. Gordon met her while working with the Tech Corps, on the Citadel five years back. She was working with a local development group. In her off time, she studied biology mostly, but she paid the bills with her technical skills.

That research group was assigned to work alongside the Alliance to revamp some of the older networks within the traffic control centers, and Gordon got paired with Ariadna. At first, both talked seldom to each other, just trying to get their jobs done before going home for the night.

One day, Ariadna asked the techie if they wanted to grab something from the local café. And after that, things took off. They met whenever they could, whenever she got off work, whenever Gordon finished his duties. He made every shore leave count.

"She's great." Gordon said quietly, smile still on his lips. "She's smart, loves biology and history. Knows how to make you laugh, make you feel better after a shitty day."

Doug still seemed lost, "You? Dating an asari?"

Guns turned to the marine, "Something wrong with aliens, Corporal?"

"What? No, no." He turned back to Gordon, devilish grin on his face again. "She have any sisters?"

"Go to hell, Doug." Gordon sneered before grinning again. "And no she doesn't. She's an only child, and she's all mine."

* * *

"Hey, Ash? You all right?"

She couldn't hear him. Instead she heard screaming.

"_Oh god, it hurts!" The marine shouted, eyes clamped shut in agony. His leg was gone from the middle of the thigh on down, a bloody trail marked where he had been dragged away from. _

_A colony was burning in the distance, buildings beginning to crumble. Synthetic troopers were everywhere, cutting down the civilians and marines that wandered into their ambush. Gunfire sent plumes of dirt into the air, but the Gunnery Chief ignored it all as she tightened her grip on the marine's collar, trying to get the final living member from her squad to the relative safety of the research camps. Marines were there, a section of the 218__th__._

_Turned out the camps weren't any better. The geth had outflanked the garrison._

_Bodies littered everywhere, those that weren't already propped up on those silver spikes were being dragged towards them by synthetics._

"Ashley?"

_One turned to look at her, its glowing eye narrowed, focusing on them. A mechanical clicking emanated from it. Its companions turned their heads, released the bodies they carried. They raised their pulse rifles._

Shepard grasped the woman's shoulders, lightly shaking her. She didn't feel it. All she felt were the bullets slamming into her shields.

_She stumbled backwards, unable to reach for her pistol. The Chief landed on top of the marine she was trying to save. Growling, the fellow jarhead shoved the woman off, reaching for his own handgun, still strapped to his hip. He rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the blinding pain that enveloped him._

_Closing one eye, he took aim for the closest geth and fired. The rounds glanced off its shields, the machines took aim._

_His blood smacked the Chief in the face._

Eden Prime disappeared from her vision. Clear skies replaced the colony.

_Ashley stared into the sky, unable to feel the pain in her stomach. But the wounds were there. Shattered ceramic plating revealed the spot where to geth shredder rounds had hit her. Square in the gut._

_Two salarian medics stood over her, along with Captain Kirrahe._

_Virmire._

_Kirrahe screamed at the medics to move her as he picked up her rifle and began firing at the geth snipers, forcing the machines back behind cover. He plucked a grenade from his belt and primed it. Take one large step, he threw the it with all his might. Moments later, the perch where the machines had taken cover behind erupted in flames._

_Both medics dragged the woman behind a low wall, steadily applying medi-gel and wiping away all the blood. _

_If she was going to die here, she'd accept it. She'd done her job, taking out the AA guns allowing Joker to land. The nuke was probably already on the ground, with Kaidan putting the finishing touches, getting it set to detonate. Shepard was probably there, giving him some cover from the geth reinforcements Joker warned about of the radio. Hopefully Saren was around, the bastard would get what he deserved with a little bath of nuclear fire._

_That thought brought a pained smile to her face…_

_A smile that disappeared as a human male appeared above her. The red bloodstripe running down the arm was a dead giveaway._

_Shepard, he was here. __Here._

_The man knelt down, fingers pressed to an ear. He was ordering Joker to pick them up from the second AA tower._

_Lifting her hand, the woman forcefully grabbed his wrist, "No…Kaidan."_

"Ashley!"

_His expression was grim, jaw clenched. He didn't dare to look her in the eyes._

_She yanked on his wrist again, the pain began to return to her gut, slowly creeping up the rest of her body. "Go…get…Kaidan! Now!"_

_He didn't say anything to her, instead turning his head to the alien medics nearby, asking them if she could be moved. She wrapped a hand around the collar of his black armor and forced him to look at her. All she could do was stare, her throat closed up. A desperate croak came out when she tried to speak again, trying to beg and plead with him to go back and get the Lieutenant._

_Shepard carefully scooped her up, wary of the two holes in her stomach._

_The clear skies overhead were replaced with the silver hull of the __**Normandy**__, marines were waiting on the cargo bay ramp, their rifles cutting down the last of the geth. Quickly assembling his men, Kirrahe ordered his remaining STGs to form around Shepard, protecting the Commander as they made their way back to the waiting frigate._

Shepard knelt in front of Ashley, who was still sitting upright on his bed like a board. Her hands had a death-grip on the mattress. He locked his eyes with hers as he kept calling her name.

But she didn't see him.

_All she saw was Virmire. And a ball of nuclear fire._

* * *

Peace.


	20. One's Mortality

One's Mortality

I realize this story has not been updated in eons. It's been a combination of many things, laziness, writer's block, school, being extremely busy, and the sudden popularity of other things I've written. Yes I've let down everyone who's read this story and has eagerly awaited an update, and to you guys, I'm very sorry. I hope to update this now more regularly again.

I've also spent a whole day revamping all the previous chapters, eliminating grammatical and spelling errors while also fixing the flow in a few spots. I didn't change anything plot wise so you don't have to go back and re-read the whole thing, unless you want to, then be my guest.

* * *

"What is that in your hand?"

Randy gave a sideways glance towards Ashley before returning his gaze towards the elevator's terminal. His grip on the holo-pad he held tightened.

"My report to the Captain."

"You had me turn that in yesterday."

The officer didn't reply, just slowly shifting from either foot as the elevator climbed towards the bridge of the _Chicago_. A silence followed as Randy kept his focus on the terminal's tiny display. Only ten more levels to go…at about three feet per second.

He already felt uncomfortable enough being around the Chief, after how royally he screwed up on Kalgha. Then writing the one-hundred plus letters to the deceased marines' families, and then Ash finding him drunk on cheap liquor that Marta had smuggled in for him.

She threatened to report him to Admiral Hackett himself. An act he didn't doubt she could pull off. Everyone from the original Normandy's crew was a hero to the Alliance, and even with the Chief's ostracized family, she could probably still pull quite a few strings.

Sighing, the Lieutenant glanced at Ashley, to find her staring back. "That's not your report, is it sir?"

Randy took a deep breath, "Ash, I've failed not only as a leader but as a soldier. My father got me where I am in my career, he's what got me leading this little squad that was set up by the Admirals. And I failed! I let a hundred and eight young men and women die under my command. And what do I do? I quit on them in the middle of a war zone. I quit on my team. I let Marta help me get wasted on duty."

"Marta got you drunk?" The Chief's brow furrowed, confused.

"No, no. Not really. He called me from a terminal down in the med-bay." Randy glanced at his holo-pad and nervously rubbed his neck, "He said he knew what I went through, and he said that if there was anything he could do, make sure to let him know. I joked with him that I felt like getting drunk. Next thing I know, I get some private knocking on my door with a bottle of whiskey."

Marta was just trying to do some good, Ash could see that, but he unintentionally played a part in whatever Randy was about to do next.

"You mentioned your father?"

Randy gave a bitter laugh. The 'great' General Franklin Crowe. Most who heard of the name think of him as a war hero, especially what he had done during the First Contact War. He fought off an entire turian division with only a few dozen men at his disposal for three days until they were relieved.

But top brass knew him for his underhanded tactics and backroom scheming. He had enough dirt on any one Admiral to get whatever he wanted done.

This applied to his two children. Randy got into Officer Training School thanks to his father, everything he got was thanks to his father.

But Franklin Crowe was a hard man, he never just gave anything away. You had to earn what was placed in front of you.

Randy remembered what his father said the day he was about to board the shuttle headed for Arcturus. His father's thin, wrinkled arm wrapped around his son's neck and pulled him in close.

"_You know how much I had to do to get you here?"_

"_No, sir."_

"_Just don't fuck up."_

"_Yes, sir."_

The man never outright said it, but he expected so much from his offspring. It felt like a thousand tons sat on your shoulders.

Randy felt like carrying all that weight had finally taken its toll.

"What happens now then, sir?"

The Lieutenant remained silent.

* * *

Captain Heinrich Drescher stared out into the starry expanse, humming an old tune to himself. The _Chicago _remained in the system acting as a watchdog while the remaining Alliance vessels regrouped with the rest of Fifth Fleet.

He could see the SSV _Las Vegas _in the distance, filled with Talon POWs.

Several 'sweep' drones scurried throughout the inky blackness, collecting active life pods.

Today's battle was technically considered a victory. The Black Talons lost at least six major vessels, the Alliance lost the frigates in the _Marathon_ and _Yorktown_,while the _Chicago _had taken minor damage. Reports would later come in to tally just how many fighters were lost.

A relatively easy victory for the price of two frigates and a few dozen fighters.

On the ground though, it was a much different story. Out of the original seven hundred marine force meant to surge for the prison, only two hundred ever hit the ground. After the destruction of the _Marathon _and _Yorktown_, what remained was barely enough to take on the opposing forces planetside. Over fifty percent casualties were recorded for the Alliance at the end of the day.

The Talons barely lost a fraction of their fighting force, only forced to retreat due to the fight in orbit turning south.

Drescher was glad he wasn't a General, because he'd have to deal with those commandos on the ground.

At least in vacuum, he'd have a fighting chance.

He heard the bridge doors part open behind him, two pairs of boots were making their way towards him.

Turning, he saw Lieutenant Crowe and Chief Williams standing before him. They both saluted, and once Drescher returned the gesture, the blonde-haired Lieutenant handed him a holo-pad and spoke almost robotically as he went to attention.

"Captain, I am hereby relieving myself of command over my squad and the duties that the role entails."

Skimming over the official resignation form, Drescher eyed the man before him, "On what grounds, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, my failure to the men and women who fought and died on the planet Kalgha and…" he paused, green eyes glancing at Williams, "…my failure to properly represent the Alliance uniform are the reasons, sir."

The Captain placed the pad aside and studied Randy for a moment. The Lieutenant's shoulders were sunken, his hands shook even as he stood at attention. His eyes held the look of one who would carry the dead with him wherever he went for the rest of his life.

"I won't lie to you, Lieutenant," the Captain finally said. "You got a lot of people killed."

Randy nodded, eyes dropping to the floor.

"But I'll give you one thing." Drescher patted the young officer on the shoulder, "You got the balls to come up here and take yourself out of the equation. That right there takes a hell of a lot of guts. Others wouldn't even consider themselves part of the failure."

Bringing his omni-tool to life, Drescher made Randy's resignation official.

The Lieutenant no longer had command over the squad that Councilor Anderson had assigned him to. He was now awaiting reassignment.

"Sir?"

Drescher silenced his device, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"There is the matter of my replacement, sir."

"I suppose there is, Lieutenant Crowe." Drescher nodded. He noticed Ashley eyed the Lieutenant with a wary look. "Do you have any recommendations? From personal experience, who would lead your men the best?"

"Operations Chief Ashley Williams, sir. She's the reason why any of our marines got off Kalgha, sir. The men and women in the squad respect her, and I know she'll lead them well." Randy turned to Ash, she looked shocked.

He had done his research. The woman fought for everything she got from day one. The drill instructors were especially tough on her during boot camp. Both the Zero-G and Hostile Environment Training Schools came after, she passed both with flying colors. She then applied for assignment to a frontline assignment with Seventh Fleet. Alliance Command had consistently denied the woman, instead forcing her to work as glorified security on colony worlds, one of them Eden Prime.

She would've never made it past Gunnery Chief if not for fighting alongside Shepard and ending the attack on the Citadel. Above all else, Ashley Williams would never become an Alliance officer.

Screw what the Admirals and Generals thought of her grandfather. She earned this.

Drescher smiled, "Well, normally something like this would take weeks, maybe even months to clear, but…" He nodded out the bridge's viewport, "Looks like we're still out in the field…"

"Sir…I…" Ashley tried to say something, anything. But nothing came. Her heart pounded too hard, her brain taking in too much.

"Sturgis?"

The _Chicago's _VI appeared next to the Captain. He glowed a radiant violet, which melted away to a soft green, _"Yes, Captain?"_

"Issue a battlefield commission for Operations Chief Williams, give it a direct-line to the _Socrates_."

Sturgis merely nodded, and almost immediately after he chimed in, _"Captain, your commission has gone through. Admiral Hackett personally approved." _The VI turned to Ashley and bowed his head, _"Congratulations on the promotion, Second Lieutenant Williams."_

When the VI disappeared, silence followed.

Ashley couldn't move, she couldn't think.

Smiling, Drescher spoke softly, "I think you need to update your current uniform, _Lieutenant_."

"Y-Yes, sir." The woman offered a shaky salute. When the Captain returned it, Ashley quickly about-faced, almost running for the elevator.

As soon as the doors shut behind her, the _Chicago's _helmsman brought his omni-tool back to life, "So she's the one, then?"

Randy slowly marched towards the viewport before him. The planet Kalgha was but a tiny dot in an ever-expanding galaxy. Shivers raced down his spine.

"Yeah," he said. "She's definitely a Spectre."

"I'll make the call."

* * *

Gorrun Falan felt the docking umbilical latch upon the _Normandy's _hull, sending a tiny shockwave through the floor. The door in front of him parted and a hand pressed against his back.

"Time to move, Falan."

The turian commando wordlessly marched forward, down the windowless path before him. If one didn't know it was an umbilical between two vessels, you would've easily mistaken for it a hallway. Though the two fully-armored marines waiting for him at the far end easily told Falan otherwise.

Giving a slight smile, Falan turned his head toward human behind him, "You ever think about mortality, Commander?"

Shepard huffed, "I've already died once, Falan. I tend to think about more positive things."

The Talon almost laughed, "I wish I had your outlook, Commander. You've already have been claimed by the void and yet you stand before us all…what else is there to fear?" His eyes went to his feet. "I've seen many people perish, Shepard. Most of them died horrible, painful deaths. All by my, or one of my brethren's, hands." Slowly, his tired eyes found the ceiling, gray, just like the rest of the umbilical. "My question is, what awaits us? Is it nothingness? Some…eternal and grand paradise? Or will I be punished? Haunted by those whose lives I've taken, perhaps?"

Shepard cautiously looked the Talon over, "You're wondering what happens when someone dies…" The turian looked as if he was pondering what the human had said, and then he finally nodded. Sighing, the Spectre closed his eyes for a moment, "I…honestly don't know. When I ran outta air…I just don't know."

Grimacing, the turian gave a hollow chuckle, "That's disappointing. But I suppose it's one of life's great mysteries."

"Why are you asking me this, Falan?" Shepard interjected, slightly tensing within his armor. "You plan on dieing anytime soon?"

His chuckle seemed to grow, head bobbing slightly. "Transferring me to an Alliance vessel won't save me, Commander. By now, Farrax knows of my capture, and he will make sure I give up no further information to you humans."

The mention of Farrax's name sent a shiver up Shepard's spine. He had seen what he had done to Warden Tordun back in Last Dawn. It was brutal, supernaturally so, how he murdered the prison's keeper.

"You may think you're safe here," Falan continued, "among your own kind, surrounded by your fleets. It won't make a difference. You've seen only a fraction of what we're trained to do. When he boarded the _Normandy_, you practically let him aboard. If you were even expecting that man for decades, it wouldn't have made a difference." The turian's voice went icy, "I am a 'dead man walking' as you humans say."

They reached the end of the umbilical before the human could reply, and the marines approached.

"Welcome aboard the _Orizaba_, Commander." The first one greeted while the second one roughly grabbed Falan and led him into the bowels of the dreadnought. "The Captain wishes to see you on the bridge, sir."

The marine darted away, following his comrade and their new prisoner.

Shepard's heartbeat picked up ever so slightly.

Captain Hannah Shepard, matriarch of the Shepard family and mother of the arguably the galaxy's greatest hero.

He hadn't seen her since he was commissioned as the _Normandy SR-1_'s XO, nearly three whole years ago. For two of those he was dead. He could only imagine what kind of hell she had gone through without her only son.

Afterwards couldn't have been any better. Hearing all the rumors that your child may still live, only able to communicate through the painfully unreliable ship-to-ship messaging systems.

He wouldn't put her through anymore misery.

* * *

The elevators were bustling with activity, engineers clad in bright orange jumpsuits trying to get different decks, jarheads finally winding down after combat, and various others with some job to do. But that ceased when they saw Shepard. All immediately cleared the center of the hallway, allowing a clear path for the lifts.

Only one more was available at the moment, and all who were inside immediately cleared out.

One approached the Commander and snapped off a crisp salute, "Sir, I don't give a damn whether you're with the Alliance or not. You _deserve_ a salute."

Shepard smiled and returned it.

Entering the now-empty elevator, Shepard selected the bridge and waited as it began its slow climb upwards. Yet the door seemed to open only a second later, revealing the _Orizaba's _nerve center.

Techies were in front of radiant screens, directing flowing rivers of information. At the helm, the pilot and navigator were arguing over the current heading. And at the Galaxy Map stood Hannah Shepard, her back to her child.

Her hair was in a tight bun. It was grayer than he remembered.

She turned as he climbed the small ramp, her soft eyes fell upon her son.

Shepard gave a weak grin, "Reporting as ordered, Captain."

Almost as quick as lightning, the woman grabbed her son and wrapped her arms around him. Her son did the same.

They held each other for a long time, the nearby crewman respectfully giving a mother a peaceful moment with her boy. The pilot and navigator were silenced as well.

Pulling herself away from her son's shoulder, Hannah looked at her son with wet eyes, "You're three years late…three _damn_ long years."

Her arms tightened around him, every bit of her raw emotion easily pierced any armor he wore.

Despair. Agony. Anger. Relief. Joy. _Love_.

"Don't you _ever_ put me through that again…"

"I'm sorry, mom. I'm so sorry."

Hot tears dripped down his neck, "Don't be…just…"

Throat closing, Hannah just held onto her boy for dear life. Praying that she would never have to go through the pain of losing him again. Painful images swept across her mind.

_Soldiers marching in step, carrying an empty coffin._

_The flag placed tenderly in her hands._

_Crowds of thousands gathered, showing their grief and sorrow for the loss of a hero, but none of it could match the grief and sorrow of a mother losing her only child._

After several moments, Hannah released her son and took a step back. Wiping her eyes, she laughed a tiny laugh, "God…I must look like a mess."

Shepard smiled, "You look fine, mom." Turning towards the Galaxy Map, the Spectre leaned against the railing, staring deeply into the simulation of the Milky Way. Virtual nebulae swirled in a digital expanse, artificial stars danced about across a simulated world.

He then turned back to his mother, "So how's dad?"

The smile that came to the Captain's lips looked unsure. She hadn't smiled in a long time.

"You know how he is," she simply said. "Wanting to reenlist every time he reads something over the extranet. He wants to see you."

"Once _this_ is all over," he waved a hand all around, "we'll go see him together."

"I'll hold you to that. Now," she began for the elevator, "let's go meet our turian friend. I want to see what he can tell us."

* * *

"I can give you everything, Captain Shepard." Gorrun Falan stated with a smile. "Fleet movements, numbers, resources, the whole 'shebang'. Is that the right term?" The Talon studied the woman across the table. Her hair was mostly gray, muddled with streaks of brown every now and again. Skin was weathered with frown lines, the tiniest scar sat upon her upper lip. Stiff as board she sat in her chair, ready for any sudden movement. Falan, on the other hand, was relaxed, hands cuffed behind the back of his seat.

The younger Shepard paced the tiny interrogation room, eyeing the alien like a panther observing its prey. His steely gaze didn't faze him one bit.

Falan's eyes strayed toward the window. Four marines stood outside, armed with standard-issue handguns and rifles. Duct vents were everywhere, in the interrogation room and outside.

"Then why didn't you tell the previous officer that was in here anything?" Hannah asked very slowly.

"Because I'm gonna tell you what I told that guy _and_ your son." Falan growled, venom seeping into his voice. He relaxed again after a moment, his smile returned, "I'm dead."

"Pending upon your cooperation, the Alliance can offer pro-"

Snorting, the turian leaned forward, "The Alliance can't protect shit."

The ship suddenly rumbled, not enough to send anyone off balance, but forceful enough to feel it in your boots.

Then the lights cut out. Falan sighed, said a silent prayer to the spirits, and then spoke softly, "See you around, Commander."

Shepard reached for his Carnifex, Hannah stood demanding a status report over her comm.

It all happened in an instant. Gunfire, followed by screaming, humans screaming. N7 training never let Shepard forget what the sound of a silenced weapon made as it was fire, nor the sound of clattering armor as the body it enveloped fell to the floor. Followed by the hollow rattle of a grenade being thrown into a room.

Instinctually, he tackled his mother and covered her from the following blast.

Both of the humans were picked up and thrown against a wall as the grenade detonated.

Ears ringing, the Commander shakily climbed to his feet.

_Concussion grenade_. Shepard told himself. If it was frag or incendiary, he would've been dead.

A clawed hand in the darkness wrapped around his throat, another snatched the pistol from his hand. Shepard was slammed against the glass before he knew what hit him.

His boots left the ground as he was further dragged up the glass wall, by _one _hand. Even clad in full combat gear, it was if Shepard was merely a feather in the clutch of this 'ghost'.

Emergency lighting booted up, and Shepard came face-to-face with Kilhai Farrax.

The turian's already-scarred face had a new addition, thanks to Keelan's blade, running along from the base of his chin over the left side of his face. But it wasn't the scar that caught the Spectre's attention.

It was Farrax's eyes. They were gray before, like steel. Now though, they were a fluorescent blue.

Just like Saren.

"Miss me, Shepard?" Farrax hissed, claws tightening around the human's throat.

Shepard grabbed the alien's arm with both hands, but it was like trying to force an iron bar to bend, nearly impossible.

Antalus was with him, carrying a subdued Falan, "Sir! They have reinforcements converging on our position! We need to go now!"

Gunfire erupted again, loud and sharp. Marines had responded, forcing the unknown number of Talons backward. With his eyesight slowly tunneling, Shepard counted at least eight.

Ignoring all the chaos, Farrax bared his teeth, "I could end you, human. Right now. I have the strength to tear the windpipe from your neck and hang you with it." His whole body seemed to tremble for a moment, as if in pain. Now blue eyes closed shut, "But not _yet_…_They _won't let me, for now."

A banshee-like shriek filled the room, "GET OFF MY BOY!"

Hannah Shepard smashed the heavy Canifex pistol right across the turian's temple, forcing the turian to stumble and release his prisoner.

He slammed into the wall, snarling like a feral beast. If not for the constant wailing from Antalus that they had to leave immediately, he may have just snapped the woman's neck. But instead he retreated out the door, following his men.

They had gotten what they came for.

Filling his lungs with air, Shepard felt his mother's hands come down on his shoulders, he could feel her shake, "A-Are you okay?"

The Spectre nodded and stood. He couldn't let him get away, not with Falan. The troubled commando was the only cooperative insight the Alliance had on the Black Talons.

Hannah could see that her son was about to charge after them, until he caught her gaze.

He carefully took her hand. "I'll come back this time, I promise."

* * *

Dead marines and blood were the only things that populated the hallway as Shepard sprinted. Not one Talon. Brutal efficiency.

His radio came to life.

"_Is anyone on Deck Seven?"_ A panicked voice shouted, the constant popping of guns going off filled the background. _"We got multiple hostiles moving through the area! Security systems have been disabled, we cannot stop their retreat!" _An explosion drowned out the woman's voice for a moment, _"…eed backup! They're headed for a starboard airlock!"_

Grabbing a shotgun from a fallen comrade, Shepard made a beeline for the airlocks. He had once taken a tour of the _Orizaba_ as a child, where he snuck away from his parents and gotten close to the airlocks to get a view of the stars outside of the ship. Hopefully memory served him well.

When he felt like he was on the right path, gunshots reassured him. They ceased abruptly as soon as he came to an airlock bay. It was a large, cylindrical room, separated into two sections by a large pressure door. Marines and _Orizaba_ crewmen were on Shepard's side of the door, trying to force it open.

Talons were on the other end, clad in fully pressurized suits.

"Shit, they're hacking the release catches on the other side." An engineer, orange jumpsuit stained red with blood, hissed as he stared at his omni-tool. "They're gonna jump ship!"

Shepard immediately ran up to a nearby marine, "Give me your helmet, now."

Doing so without question, the young soldier released the clamps that locked his helmet into the rest of his armor and handed his breather helmet to the Commander, "What are you gonna do, sir?"

"Follow them." Shepard hastily replied as he locked the helmet into place. He checked the oxygen reading that came up on the HUD. He had enough to last for thirty minutes.

Eyes turning for the airlock's viewport, Shepard saw what he suspected to Falan, clad in armor like the other Talons. He still had his hands bound though.

Then the doors on their side parted, exposing the Talons to the void of space. Two carried Falan in the zero-g environment and activated their thrusters. All the others followed, out into the blackness.

Shepard turned to the engineer, "Get everyone to a pressurized room and seal the door."

"What about you?"

"I need some form of propulsion, my armor doesn't carry thrusters."

The engineer smiled, "You want to use the vacuum created from this side once that door opens…"

Shepard nodded and crouched low, bracing for it.

The Talons were becoming smaller and harder to see, their black armor blending in perfectly with the dark void.

Quickly ordering everyone out, the engineer patched into Shepard's radio, _"Alright, I'm starting the hack. Get ready, 'cuz I'm forcing those doors to open quick."_

Nodding, the Spectre was ready. Zero-g training was very clear, if you knew a rapid depressurization and subsequent vacuum was coming, get ready. It was going to be violent.

The doors parted, and the deafening boom and shriek of air being yanked from its home pierced straight through Shepard's helmet and rattled his eardrums. His feet were pulled from underneath him, his shotgun was yanked away from his hands. Stars filled his vision as he tumbled end over end in space, the only thing filling his ears know was his breathing. Trying to right himself, Shepard slowly eased out of his tumble, staring towards his objective.

The back of a Talon, his thruster packs shooting puffs of air to keep him in line with the rest of his comrades. And the Spectre was coming up fast.

Going spread-eagle, Shepard wrapped his arms and legs around the turian as soon as he was close enough. He couldn't hear what the Talon was saying, if anything, but he imagined a string of curses.

Reacting, the alien attempted to shrug the human off, but Shepard held strong. The other Talons didn't notice their friend was lagging behind, being attacked.

Releasing the alien and spinning him around, Shepard prepared the only weapon he had left as he grabbed onto the Talon's collar.

Clenching his right fist, the orange gauntlet of his omni-tool came to life, almost as bright as a sun. Then a blade appeared along with the tool, pressed against the Commander's forearm. It then slid out like a switch-blade.

Although transparent and seemingly holographic, this blade was anything but. It was sharper than any knife could ever be, harder than any diamond.

The Spectre then proved this as he drove the tip of the blade through the Talon's visor with one hard jab. It sliced through the glass easily, and kept on going. Cutting through skin, bone, and brain with little effort, the blame came out the other side. Blue blood followed, spewing out the back, and when Shepard yanked his weapon free, more spilled forth from what was left of his face.

Finally realizing something was amiss, a Talon turned for Shepard.

The human had lost all momentum when he encountered the first foe, now he was a sitting duck.

_Damn it!_

Wasting little time, the turian pulled for a Widow sniper rifle from his back. In under a second, he took aim and fired.

A sledgehammer cracked against Shepard's chest, the round melting away his kinetic barriers and digging into his chest plate. It was almost as if a giant fist drove into his sternum, throwing him backwards and tumbling through zero-g.

All the air was forced from his lungs, and before he knew it, Commander Shepard slammed into the waiting hull of the SSV _Orizaba_.

* * *

Commander Gorrun Falan was forced to his knees. He remembered this ship. Farrax's little flagship. The _Carthaan_.

He felt a pistol be forced to the back of his skull, but when no shot was fired, he spoke up, "Come on, at least give me a soldier's death. A killing death, y'know? Let me face what's coming."

A rough hand grabbed his collar and forced him up, and then spun him around. Falan came face-to-face with Kilhai Farrax, or rather, Kilhai Farrax's gun.

When his former superior still didn't fire, Falan spoke again, "What do you serve now, Kilhai? It's not the Hierarchy, nor the Council."

An expression of anger spread across Farrax's face. Then his fluorescent blue eyes flashed white, as did his skin. Suddenly a hot wave of biotic energy wrapped around Falan's body, spreading his arms and legs, forcing his head to stare at the ceiling.

He gasped in surprise and horror. Farrax wasn't a biotic.

"I serve something greater than the Hierarchy or the Council. I am serving all sentient life!"

Falan just shook his head. This man had gone insane. Slowly, Falan forced his head downward, looking his executioner in the eyes.

"You ever think about mortality, Captain?"

The last thing Gorrun Falan's brain recorded was a flash of orange light and the sound of a gunshot.

* * *

Peace.


	21. Place Your Bets

Place Your Bets

* * *

"The fuck are we even doin' in here, man?"

"How the hell should I know?" Logan Wallace spat back, the former Alliance Lieutenant turned Cerberus soldier equally unpleased with being sent into the damned Heavy Training Yards. The HTYs were meant for mech operators and heavy-lift vehicles, not infantry. The whole purpose of these yards were to train mech pilots how to efficiently operate in combat. Live ammunition was used here, so the walls here were reinforced to withstand even the most powerful of blasts. Anything short of a shell from the main gun of a dreadnought would fail to pierce these walls.

These Yards in particular even doubled as an emergency evacuation point here on Minuteman Station, since its bulkheads could be sealed off and the entire area could be jettisoned from the rest of the station.

But it wasn't meant for 'honing the skills of the lower-ranking squads', as Logan had been told. So now he, and four other troopers from his chalk, were taking part in a vaguely-specified training op.

"What are we even up against?"

"Beats me, man." Sighing, Logan slowly adjusted the sights on his Avenger rifle.

The former Lieutenant then halted, deciding to take a knee. Soon the rest of the squad formed a loose circle around him, talking amongst themselves as they waited for their 'training' to come to them.

He slowly removed his helmet and placed a cigarette between his lips. Checking the compartment on his belt, Logan groaned in annoyance as he looked up at his comrades, "Shit, forgot my light. Any of you boys got one on you?"

The four of his men fumbled through their own pockets on their armor, until one finally produced a lighter.

"Thank," Logan murmured as he lit the cancer stick. "What's your name, kid?"

"DeWitt, sir. Jonathon DeWitt."

Logan smirked to himself, "Son of Booker?"

"What? No, my dad's name was Alexander."

Logan just chuckled and shook his head, "Forget about it, before your time."

* * *

Jack slowly approached the group of soldiers before her, standing tall like a proud lioness.

_I'm counting five troopers, Jackie. Fuck 'em up._

Cerberus assault troopers, standard grunts, not as highly trained as their commando teams. They were still a threat, no doubt, but definitely not to her.

"Howdy boys. Which one of you Cerberus fucks wants to die painfully?"

One of them turned their head, immediately raising his rifle.

A flash of purple energy and the butt of the weapon was forced through the man's sternum with an explosion of blood, metal, and bone. Whipping her hands in a sharp circle, the biotic spun the impaled trooper around and forced a beam of energy against the weapon's trigger. The rifle that was lodged inside the trooper's chest cavity came to life, sending a round through the helmet of another poor soul.

_Holy shit, Jackie! You are one fucked up bitch! And I'm loving it!_

As the corpse fell to its knees, the rest of the group unleashed a volley of fire. The bullets sparked as they grinded and deflected off her barriers, harmlessly veering into the ground or the far walls.

The next two targets were simply tossed into the air and disintegrated in a flash of violet, no remains to be seen. Then the fifth trooper dropped his rifle and began to run. Laughing, the woman raised a hand, halting his retreat and enveloping him in a stasis field.

She spun him around and pulled him towards her. He was the only one in the group without a helmet, and between his lips was a slowly smoldering cigarette.

With a blink of her eye, the cancer stick was yanked from the trooper's lips and guided into her own. Taking a long drag, the biotically-enhanced woman gave a wink at the man as smoked puffed out of her nostrils.

"No, wai-!"

Jack split her index and middle fingers and the trooper in front of her was sheared in half, a fountain of red erupted.

* * *

"Computer, pause film."

The image of Subject Zero tearing a soldier in two froze.

"Along with increased agility, biotic potential has risen exponentially across the board…and aggression is also extremely high." Doctor Phillip Andrews coolly noted as he observed the seemingly docile subject before him. She was immobile, but wide awake. Her eyes followed him around the room, silently observing him like a panther eyeing its next meal. Every time Andrews came to review the tapes from her previous excursion into the Heavy Training Yards he felt like she was going to pounce on him.

She was being pitted against Cerberus' own soldiers to evaluate Zero's new combat abilities after her recent…augmentations. To date she had killed 76 troopers, destroyed six mechs, and annihilated a team of biotic specialists with ease.

He noticed her skin flashed purple every so often, a sign of her testing the biotic inhibitors. Grunting, the Doctor raised his omni-tool back to his lips, "The cocktail of drugs provided by the Bio-Chem Division have kept the subject in a controllable state and has left her subconscious mind open to suggestion."

As her skin flared a rather lovely violet, the Doctor paused as he activated biotic inhibitors one, two, and six as an extra precaution. The machines groaned in turn, as if struggling to contain the sheer power this girl carried with her. If she ever got out containment in her current state of power…the results would be grisly, to say the very least.

The ghostly man assured him that even if Subject Zero broke her bonds, she would be contained. Andrews took that man's word with a hefty pinch of salt, however.

"Despite my recommendations, the Illusive Man has vehemently stated that we will _not_ attempt to use Reaper indoctrination methods on Subject Zero. He believes the method of suggestion will be a far more powerful tool, since indoctrination has been shown to reduce a subject's biotic capabilities significantly." Andrews studied the heavily tattooed woman. His lips creased back in a grimace of disgust. "Note to self: Get a dermatologist down to the labs to see if these revolting markings can be removed from the subject's skin."

Subject Zero's eyes flared wide with anger, the biotic inhibitors groaned. Andrews unconsciously took a step back.

These markings were about as appealing to him as graffiti. They served no practical purpose other than to draw attention to yourself, and it seemed from Zero's history, that was something she didn't want.

"In any case, the process of suggestion is a slow, tedious process. It will take time for her to 'take'. There's only so much that subliminal messaging and 'brainwashing' can do at one time." He found the term 'brainwashing' to be a bit simple for his tastes, but it was the only term that came to his mind. "And might I add that this whole process would go over a lot more smoothly for me if I knew what exactly the Illusive Man wishes to do with this woman," Andrews let his discontent be known as he whispered into his omni-tool. "It is obvious he wishes to weaponize her, but for what purpose? For who?"

He clucked his tongue as he closed the video program, "Whoever the Illusive Man wishes to throw Subject Zero at…I feel terribly sorry for them."

Sighing, the Doctor turned and marched for the exit, his observations finished for the day. Andrews glanced over Subject Zero again, the woman's still form sent chills up his spine. Notifying security that he was turning in, he quickly shuffled out of the room.

* * *

Shepard looked over Zaael's unmoving form with worry. He was in a bad way. A bacterial infection was ravaging the quarian's body, and anything the Alliance carried was either not strong enough to kill it off, or would kill the quarian.

They were now transferring the critically-injured quarian from the _Chicago _to the _Normandy_, where Shepard was supposed to take his friend to the Migrant Fleet to receive proper medical attention. The Commander hadn't left Zaael's side ever since they met up in the medical bay.

He had pushed the failure of rescuing the now surely-dead Gorrun Fallon and the pain from cracked ribs that came from him slamming into the _Orizaba's _hull out of his mind. Shepard had put his full focus on getting the man who got him out of Last Dawn some proper medical care.

The man who smelled of chlorine was also at the heavily-injured quarian's side the whole way, Jim Cummings. He had been assigned to observe the quarian's health and treat him as necessary, but the Alliance didn't have the necessary medication to treat Zaael's bacterial infection, which was running amok in his body.

Nervously clucking his tongue, the Major kept a keen eye on the stretcher that carried his patient. He didn't trust these floating contraptions, he preferred the older models, the ones that had wheels still touching the floor. Snapping back to Shepard, Jim warned him for the fourth time in the past ten minutes, "As I've said, I highly recommend you start for the Migrant Fleet as soon as you have Zaael onboard."

He snatched the data pad that was clipped to his belt, "I've compiled the list of meds he's going to need. He'll need to maintain a very strict and consistent regimen if his condition is to improve."

As they approached the docking umbilical, Shepard took the data pad and thanked Jim. The Commander assured the doctor that he would do everything in his power to make sure Zaael got the proper medical attention he needed. The quarian didn't go through hell just to die now.

Seemingly satisfied, Jim took one final look at his patient and then smiled, "Good luck, Zaael'Mirku." His eyes went to Shepard, "Tell Doctor Chakwas 'Jim says hi.'"

With that, the Major signaled a nearby marine to take Zaael's stretcher across the umbilical and into the _Normandy_. As the doctor marched off, another approached the Commander.

A freshly-christened Second Lieutenant. The marine officer wore a freshly-pressed dress blue uniform, with golden bars resting upon each shoulder. Various commendations and ribbons rested on her chest, showing the officer's vast range of experience and service.

Shepard smiled as he closed the gap between the two.

"You look a little shell-shocked, Lieutenant Williams."

Ash immediately wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his neck. "I never thought this day would come," she said in a shaky voice as tears stung her eyes. "Never did I think a Williams would ever wear an officer's uniform again. _Never_." The woman lifted her head and smiled, "Dad would be so happy for me." She chuckled, "If he saw me, he'd probably salute me right on the spot." Eyes tearing up again, she hid herself in her lover's neck, "Thank you for everything."

Shepard slowly cupped Ashley's cheeks with his hands, his eyes locking in with hers. "Ash. _You_ earned this. I didn't do a thing, this…this was all you."

He was going to say more, but her lips stopped his voice in his throat. Immediately taking advantage of the situation, he pushed her up against the far bulkhead. A slender hand snaked around the back of the Commander's neck as two tongues fought for dominance.

"_Commander." _

It was Joker.

They both smiled against each other's lips and ignored the pilot's call for but a moment longer, trying to hold onto their last few moments together before going their separate ways again.

Ashley slowly broke the kiss, cheeks flushed, "You best get going, Skipper." She then wrapped a hand tightly around his shoulder, "When Zaael's better…come to the Citadel. I owe you and your entire crew a drink."

"I'll take you up on that." He said with a wide grin, but it then immediately faded. Sighing, he couldn't put this off any longer.

Ashley noticed his sudden change in demeanor, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Ash." Shepard swallowed. "What happened in my cabin the other night-"

"Don't worry, Skip. You were a tiger-"

"Ash!" He grabbed her hand and squeezed, not hard enough to cause pain, but with enough pressure to get her full attention. "You locked up on me. You were murmuring about Virmire, about saving Kaidan…"

Fear immediately surged through Ashley's body like lightning, the memories and flashbacks. Vivid images of the past played out in her mind, taking her back to her own personal hell. Every moment she was back at Eden Prime, back at Virmire, it felt real. The heat of the gun in her hands, the warm trickle of someone else's blood dripping down her face, "No…it's _nothing_, Skipper. Bad memor-"

"No, Ash. It is _not _nothing." Her entire arm was shaking as she held onto his hand with weak fingers. "I'm no doctor…I don't know if this is PTSD or anything like that but what you're going through isn't normal." Shepard moved to the side, and behind him was a smiling Kelly Chambers. "I've asked Kelly to go with you. She'll be here to talk to you about what you've been going through."

Shepard knew Ashley was the kind of woman who kept her problems to herself, intent on solving them on her own. It came with her family name, her heritage, but this was something the Commander knew the woman couldn't just bottle up forever and expect her to be okay.

Ashley just looked back and forth between Shepard and Kelly with a confused and bewildered look. She squeezed her lover's hand and released, backing away slowly as she barely whispered, "S-Stay safe…"

Watching with sad eyes, Kelly gave the Spectre next to her a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll make sure she'll be okay."

* * *

Tank was getting frustrated. Almost extremely so.

With an amused smile, Gordon sat and watched from the ground floor of the _Chicago's_ weight room, staring up at a very annoyed Tank. He was being put through some very slow physical therapy trials, all to make sure his body was acclimating to his cloned heart. While he couldn't make out exactly, Gordon could tell Tank was hooked to an EKG and blood pressure monitor.

Pulling his eyes away from the second floor, the engineer found Jane in the far corner of the weight room, doing what must've been her thousandth pushup. He first caught eye of the sniper roughly ten minutes ago and she was still going strong. Other marines tried to join in and compete, but they all eventually petered out and stopped, now watching to see just how long the Corporal could go before failure. Gordon had a feeling they'd be there a while.

Doug was working a sandbag that was setup in the corner of the boxing ring. Sweat dripped from the soldier as he let loose a torrent of hard punches, forcing the bag to recoil and sway with each blow.

Then Guns showed up. Donning only a sports bra and a pair of shorts, she marched for the boxing ring with a stony expression. Gordon noticed the small scar on her left thigh, from where she took a bullet back on Kalgha, though her stride seemed to be unaffected.

Without a word she slid through the ropes and lifted a hand, her fair skin immediately turning a shining violet. A biotic field held the sandbag at an odd angle, causing Doug to miss his next punch.

The Texan turned around in confusion, then grinned. He pointed a thumb back at the bag, asking for her to let it go.

A smirk lifted one corner of Guns' lips, shaking her head. She said Doug was about to receive discipline for crass remarks on the field of battle.

Snorting, the man gave an incredulous look, "What? 'Crass remarks'? When?"

She approached him, her smirk turning into a full-blown grin, "You offered to help 'clean out' the sand from certain areas of my body?"

Gordon had to suppress a chuckle when he saw Doug's eyes go wide and his cheeks redden. He stumbled out an apology and backed away from the Gunnery Chief, hands up in a defensive posture.

Guns chuckled and threw the Texan a pair of navy blue sparring gloves. She slipped own her own pair, which were a bright, almost neon yellow.

Looking confused, the marine looked at the comparatively tiny woman, "You want us to spar? How is that discipline, Guns?"

Tightening the glove on her left hand with her teeth, she gave Doug an almost feral leer, "Because I am going to thoroughly and utterly kick your sorry ass."

"Such confidence coming from a woman who has biotics," Doug said. "How well can you fight without your fancy 'powers'?"

Guns rolled her neck, exposing the scars that traced down the right side of her neck, which ended at her collarbone. Grimacing, Gordon could only guess how the woman acquired them.

_Doesn't look like frag scarring, _he thought. _Too uniform…a knife, perhaps? If so, that must've been extremely painful. How did anyone hold her down long enough to do that to her?_

Slipping a kinetic faceguard on, Doug shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The faceguard worked similarly to a kinetic barrier, except in this case it was designed to protect the user's face from blows at slow velocities, and no one was allowed to spar without one equipped. Now this wasn't to say it prevented any pain when struck to the face, but it upped one's chances of not breaking a nose or orbital bone.

"Guns," Doug said as he got into his sparring posture. "I really don't wanna embarrass you."

The woman almost chuckled as she activated her faceguard, "You couldn't do embarrass me even if you tried, Doug."

Gordon glanced over at Jane, who was also watching the current scene unfold. The sniper looked back at him and gave him her trademark 'wanna place a bet?' look.

The engineer mouthed, _Fifty credits on Guns._

Jane replied, _Fifty on Doug._

* * *

Doug's head hurt. His ribs hurt. His gut hurt. His muscles hurt. His everything hurt.

Guns seemed to have a counter to everything he did. When he initially probed her defense with some initial strikes, she easily batted them away and responded with lightning-quick blows to his ribs. Then when he opened up with a haymaker followed up with a kick, he was met with an elbow to his solar plexus and then a knee into the small of his back. He then tried grappling with her, only to receive a freaking _headbutt_ in return.

The few blows he actually did land didn't seem to do much damage at all, even when he felt like one or two of his punches made great contact, she seemed to brush it off.

Anything Doug has tried so far, Guns has had a response to it. In short, Guns had so far made good on her promise and was kicking his ass, and it was frustrating as all hell.

It didn't help much that now a crowd of crewman and marines had gathered around the ring, cheering on as the two traded blows. Doug could hear some calling out bets…a lot were being placed on Guns.

The Gunner chief bounced on her feet, hands up and eyes focused in on her opponent. Guns looked like a calculating predator, counting away the moments until her dying prey fell.

Beginning a slow circle to his left, Doug tightened his right fist and quickly approached the woman, giving what appeared to be a very heavy swing. When she committed both hands to deflect his blow, Doug quickly wound up and released his left hook.

It caught the woman square on her chin, and her head jerked with the blow _hard_. Doug smiled, hoping that maybe this would be the end of the fight.

It would be for all the wrong reasons, however.

Guns used the momentum from the blow to spin on one heel, while her other leg scythed up and cracked against his temple.

Doug's vision flashed white and his ears rang. He instinctively stumbled backwards, hands coming up to protect his face.

They wouldn't arrive in time.

He couldn't tell if the next blow came from a hand or a foot, but it didn't matter. It came too fast, too hard. Doug's head and neck craned sideways as he felt the muscles in his legs fail, followed by his arms falling limp, and then his vision tunneling.

The last thing he heard was the crowd of onlookers go wild.

The last thing he saw was a field of violet wrapping around him, slowly letting him fall to the ground without any more injuries.

It felt good, knowing Guns cared about him enough to not let him slam face-first into the mat.

Then he blacked out.

* * *

Gordon pumped his fist, and found Jane in the crowd.

She gave him that icy glare that she usually reserved for the people she found in her crosshairs.

That didn't stop his grin, though. He was fifty credits richer now, after all.

* * *

"_Come on…wake up, Dougy."_

The pain in his temples came in waves. Constant, agonizing waves. A soft hand patted his cheek, which didn't help the pain any, but was strangely soothing

The voice that beckoned for him sounded almost angelic as well. Doug didn't know why, but he felt safe.

"_You're okay, Dougy, you're okay."_

Forcing his eyes open, the marine's blurry vision quickly focused to see the soft features of Guns hovering over him. His throbbing head was resting upon her thighs, the back of his neck propped up on her knees. His hands laid down at his sides, legs were splayed out in front of him. They were outside of the ring, on some soft mats next to it.

Guns held out four fingers, "How many?"

Wriggling his tongue, Doug tried to get his dry mouth working.

"You…fuckin'…You fuckin' kicked my ass!"

The Gunnery Chief couldn't stifle a smile, which gave way to a laugh.

It was music to Doug's ears. Sweet, angelic music.

Her slender arms wrapped under her comrade's shoulders, and with a little biotic assistance, she carefully pulled him up to a sitting position. She asked him if he thought he could stand.

Simply chuckling, Doug nodded. Guns then started lifting again, helping this man to his shaky feet. She threw his arm over her shoulder and helped him walk, "Come on, Dougy. Let's get you to the showers."

"'Dougy'?" The man questioned through his headache with a grin. "That's real cute, Chief."

Laughing again, Guns helped him out of the weight room and down to the showers. Very few people were in the room, so she carried her friend towards the closest stall and carefully propped him up against the wall.

Turning to face the man, she halted as she caught his gaze.

She never really noticed until now, but Doug's eyes were a remarkably deep hazel.

Doug stared back into her own bluish-green orbs. For the longest time, Doug had always made comments on this woman's looks, but he didn't realize how truly beautiful she was until right now. If this is what angels looked like, Doug wouldn't be surprised.

Ignoring the throbbing that racked his temples, he slowly brushed a lock of sweat-matted black hair out of her face, then his fingers found the back of her neck.

One of her hands ended up on his chest, the other on the stall behind him. Guns could feel his heart beating hard against her palm.

The held each other's gaze for what felt like minutes.

Then they pulled each other in for a desperate lock of lips, both immediately vying for dominance over the other.

Somehow in their little 'duel', what little clothes they both wore soon became discarded between the two of them, ending up in a pile by their feet.

Both soldiers pressed against each other, arms wrapping around backs and legs entwining with each other.

He tasted like sweat against her tongue.

She tasted like blood against his.

Doug couldn't help but smile and interrupt with shaky breath, "Did I…Did I make you bleed, Guns?"

He felt the pressure of her hand against his chest increase.

"_Please…_" She said in an almost begging tone, biting down on his lower lip. "Call me Kendra…my name is _Kendra._"

Slapping the panel next to them, hot water began to pour down over them. "Okay," he whispered as he kissed the tip of her nose. "Kendra…"

Kendra then pulled him back in.

* * *

So, yeah, this story isn't dead. Look at that!

Basically, life hasn't been too great to me over this past year. In fact, it's been somewhat shitty.

Forgive me for making whoever read this story wait this long. I hope to get consistent updates out again.

Oh yeah, I finally got around to playing BioShock Infinite. Awesome.

Peace.


End file.
